


Things That Go Bump In the Night

by Green3lf



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, Post-Episode: s07e04 Millenium, Salem Witch Trials, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27651689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green3lf/pseuds/Green3lf
Summary: Mulder and Scully are assigned an unremarkable case in Salem, Mass. A haunted hotel, a lingering New Year's kiss, witches, ghosts and candlelight. Skinner just wants it sorted, Scully is enjoying the nice accommodations and Mulder is in his element-until things get too hot to handle!
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 44
Kudos: 57
Collections: X-Files Case File Fanfic Exchange (2020)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ATTHS_TWICE](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATTHS_TWICE/gifts).



> For Crystal (ATTHS_TWICE) 
> 
> I adore your writing and was so excited to write something for you. I should have been nervous about writing for someone whose work I admire so much, but you are unfailingly kind, so I felt very safe when I saw your name on my Secret Santa assignment.
> 
> The places are real (although a couple may not have been as described in the time the story is set, as my visit was in 2015), and the Salem history is all based on historical documents. Bridget's descendent is my creation but her name is taken from Bridget's family tree. The Hawthorne Hotel is rumoured to be haunted. I stayed there and didn't meet the ghosts (or Mulder and Scully) but it is a beautiful hotel and all the rooms there are as described in the story. The movies and TV shows M and S watch are all genuine and readily available.

THE HAWTHORNE HOTEL, SALEM, MASS.

MONDAY 10 JANUARY 2000

11:45 PM

The witching hour approached. Tiny stars blinked festively in the cold, velvet sky as, far below, ribbons of mist decorated doorways and festooned the deserted paths of Salem’s Common. Across the empty street, the hush of a late winter’s evening had descended over the Hawthorne Hotel. In the warm lobby, a sleepy young clerk was checking over his college notes. Most of the Christmas decorations had been removed, but fairy lights still twinkled from evergreen swags on mantlepieces, and those looking for a mistletoe moment in a dark corner would not leave disappointed. The serene post-holiday calm evaporated when the elevator opened its doors to disgorge an imposing, heavyset man, his face twisted with rage. He strode to the counter, swinging an expensive suitcase by his side. A small woman followed cautiously in his wake.

“Listen, I’ve just been attacked in my room. Attacked! Do you hear me?” he began.

“Yes, sir. Is your attacker still in the building? Shall I call the police?” the clerk queried. Hand poised over the telephone, his demeanour was surprisingly, maddeningly, calm.

“Uh, what? No, I…no… This place is a disgrace!’ Some of the wind went out of the man’s sails, although his expression was still dark. “It’s clear that you have no interest in the welfare of your guests. We’re leaving and I had better not be charged for this shocking treatment!” He abruptly turned and headed for the exit, leaving the woman standing awkwardly by the desk.

“I’m so sorry. He’s just had a fright. The painting over the couch in our room fell suddenly and hit him on the head, then he tripped over a chair leg and…” Before she could elaborate, the woman was interrupted by her agitated partner calling from the doorway.

“Ann, get out here now!”

She gave a look of contrition to the unflappable clerk, then hurried out, leaving the key to room 612 on the counter.

The man behind the desk was soon joined by his co-worker. She had been discretely monitoring the situation from her office and did not seem to be concerned about what had just happened.

“Another one?’

“Yep. 612 again. Another big, mean guy who discovered he wasn’t as tough as he thought he was.”

“Hargrave isn’t going to be pleased,” she noted.

“That’s what you get for owning a haunted hotel, isn’t it?”

The pair exchanged an amused glance, chorused ‘Who ya’ gonna call?’ and then returned to their allotted tasks as silence once again settled softly over the room.

\--

AD WALTER SKINNER’S OFFICE, WASHINGTON DC. 

TUESDAY 11 JANUARY

8:30 AM

Mulder and Scully barely had time to slip into the leather seats facing Skinner’s desk before he started speaking, his manner and tone all business: either they were in trouble again or Skinner had something to tell them that he did not want to say. Mulder generally assumed an ass-kicking was coming their way, but Scully genuinely couldn’t think of anything for which they deserved to be in trouble.

“Agents.” He acknowledged them with a curt nod. “The powers-that-be have decided that this is a case that needs urgent attention and a delicate touch.” He looked at Scully intently as he finished his sentence.

“And so you immediately thought of me. Thank you, sir, I’m honoured,” chimed in Mulder, who had seen the silent exchange between his partner and his boss. Scully brought one elegant hand to her mouth to hide an untimely grin at her partner’s antics. Skinner rolled his eyes.

“Mulder, the Hawthorne Hotel in Salem is owned by Donald Hargrave. His family members are all generous contributors to political campaigns both in Massachusetts and at the Federal level. They’re prominent figures in the community and have been for generations. Ongoing incidents at the hotel have been costing Hargrave business, and causing ‘talk’: I suspect it’s the latter that has been his main motivation to request our help. Although, ‘request’ is the polite term; demand would be more accurate. Hargrave has started calling in favours since the local authorities have been unable to assist to his satisfaction. This morning his friend and squash partner, _Senator_ Ross, placed an early call to the deputy director.” Skinner’s face told the story of his boss’s next move: he had called the AD to make the problem his, so now Skinner was handing it off to his favourite problem children.

Skinner continued without giving either agent the opportunity to comment. “Hotel guests are complaining about attacks taking place in their rooms. The assailant remains unseen and the staff has openly begun to gossip about a supernatural cause. There was another incident last night and Hargrave is losing his mind. The hotel manager is expecting the pair of you at the Hawthorne by this evening. Accommodations within the hotel have been organized and any expenses will be considered with a generous eye.” Skinner shifted uncomfortably, as he often did when discussing the more paranormal aspects of the X-Files. Mulder, as usual, did nothing to soothe the evident discomfort.

“Ghosts, Scully!” he exclaimed as he bounced out of his seat. “And unlimited expenses!”

Scully only just managed to maintain her trademark sober expression as she scooped up the file and took their leave of AD Skinner. “Thank you, sir,” she managed as she, too, rose from her chair.

“And Mulder, I said generous expenses, not unlimited!” Skinner’s exasperated farewell followed them out the door, but Mulder was already talking over him.

“A witch hunt, Scully! Makes a nice change to be on the other side of one, for once. Pack for through to the weekend; I’ll organize flights and a hire car from the other end.”

“The weekend? Mulder, it’s Tuesday! What are you expecting to find that will support a 5-night stay in Salem?”

“Ghosts, Scully! Or witches. The history of the area is incredible. Did you know…”

“Save it for the plane, Mulder. You don’t want to peak too early.’ Scully eyed him appraisingly. “I haven’t seen you this excited since we visited NASA”. She was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain an air of indifference in the face of Mulder’s puppy-like enthusiasm. The idea of a week in a nice hotel with a happy Mulder, on what seemed to be a fairly innocuous case, was not without appeal: Scully left the Hoover Building with a pleasant sense of anticipation adding an allegro rhythm to the tap-tap-tap of her improbably high heels.


	2. Chapter 2

THE HAWTHORNE HOTEL

WASHINGTON STREET, SALEM

4:00 PM

The crisp, mid-January afternoon was just turning dark. The road from the airport had been clear, although snow sat here and there on the ground wherever the shadows were deep. It had been a dry, mild winter so far, and the clear sky framed a waxing crescent moon hanging directly overhead, waiting for the stars to reveal themselves under the cover of darkness. The Hawthorne Hotel’s windows glowed invitingly.

“A ‘generous’ budget has its benefits, Scully,” noted Mulder as they parked the hire car behind the pleasant-looking brick building and removed their bags from the trunk. It had been a smooth flight and a quick trip from the airport. “Although I’m not sure if we should be insulted that we’ve been allocated rooms in a hotel that everyone thinks is haunted. Just how expendable are we?”

“I’m surprised you even need to ask that partner,” she replied with a smirk. “Our usual level of accommodation speaks volumes about how we are perceived. Frankly, I’m okay with a ghost if it means I get a room with a clean bath and heating that works.”

“Scully just admitted our hotel is haunted! Now I can die happy,” Mulder teased. He was pleased to see his partner grin back at him, not even trying to shut him down. They shouldered their bags and made their way into the cosy, traditionally furnished lobby. The smell of apples was in the air, courtesy of the complimentary cider station opposite the entrance. The lobby was empty, although people were socialising in the adjacent bar and restaurant areas. Scully caught Mulder’s eye and smiled: if the lobby was any indication this hotel was a significant upgrade to their usual digs.

Approaching the front desk, Mulder and Scully identified themselves and were quickly assigned rooms by a friendly, neatly suited clerk. As they rode the elevator, they agreed to meet back in the bar at five o’clock to plan their investigative strategy. Mulder’s room was on the 3rd floor, and Scully’s was on the 5th. She was pleased to discover her room did have a glossy white bath, although a leisurely soak would have to wait until after her evening with Mulder. Scully showered to wash away the travel fug and changed into warm clothes; figure-hugging, black woollen trousers and a cloud-soft sweater with a deep V neckline. She added black leather stiletto ankle boots, applied mascara, slicked a coat of gloss on her lips, and was ready to go. Returning to the living room, she flicked through the tourist brochures arrayed on the desk. A ‘Hocus Pocus’ self-guided tour caught her attention. It was a fun movie she tried to watch around Halloween each year. Scully laughed at herself when she realised she was actually considering tourist activities while on a case. She returned the pamphlets to the desk, fished out the file, and used the remaining time before she was due to meet Mulder to read through the scant details of the case.

At five, she headed down to the lobby and crossed the floor under the appreciative eye of her partner, already waiting by the door to the bar. He had changed into tight, dark jeans and a chunky cable knit she hadn’t seen before. Impulsively, she ran her hand down the grey weave of one sleeve as she smiled a greeting and said “That’s a beautiful sweater, Mulder. It looks warm.”

“It is, and if I knew wearing it would make you so handsy, you’d have seen it much sooner.” Mulder gave her a grin to show he was only teasing, and they walked through to the seating area in the bar. Mulder looked around for a moment before selecting a table. It was in a rather busy part of the room and Scully wondered why he had chosen this particular spot. He soon explained. “Apparently some of our ghosts were ancient mariners, Scully. After a skinful of rum, they sometimes take a turn at the helm.” He gestured to a wooden ship’s wheel mounted on a railing that separated one section of the floor from the main bar area. “Patrons often report seeing the wheel turned by an invisible force.”

“I think the patrons are likely the ones who’ve been at the rum, Mulder.”

He looked at her, stricken. “What happened to you? I leave you alone for less than an hour and your willingness to believe in a haunted hotel vanishes without a trace!”

“Must be an X-File, Mulder. Buy me a nice glass of red and we’ll see if I can find my faith again. Let’s give that expense account a nudge while we figure out what we’re doing here.”

“Dana Scully! I fear I’ve been a bad influence on you.” Mulder shook his head in mock disappointment as he walked away to the bar. Scully smiled ruefully and whispered at the back of her retreating partner, “You have no idea!” 

One drink led to dinner as they discussed the few leads they had (while Mulder kept an eye on the disappointingly still ship’s wheel) and agreed on the first investigative steps they would take. Mulder suggested that they could get a head start on their questions if they talked to the night staff currently on duty. Then they could catch the day team in the morning and see where that took them. While they planned, Scully ate fries off Mulder’s plate; a familiar action that felt rather more intimate since their sweet New Year’s kiss. They decided on questions to elicit a clearer picture of why the hotel staff might believe the haunting stories and why a ghost if it were a ghost, (“It’s not a ghost, Mulder!”) would want to attack guests. Scully’s take was characteristically sceptical.

“Mulder, the local PD’s file says staff reported that the ‘hauntings’ escalated in this past year. Several staff members pointed to the fact that the memorial park for the witch trial victims is close by and it’s been a focus of the millennium celebrations and rituals held by various new-age groups. _Apparently_ , Salem is on a particularly significant ley line which they feel could explain why the level of spectral activity has increased.”

“Seems plausible to me.”

“Of course it does!” Scully smiled to remove any sting from her words. “What seems plausible to me is that the so-called millennium celebrations have stirred up paranormal fantasies amongst the more gullible townsfolk and visitors; that there are not more hauntings, but more people looking for a good fright in this very touristy town. Perhaps the staff have taken it upon themselves to create an ‘authentic’ ghost experience for the guests attracted by tales of hauntings, but weren’t willing to admit that once the police came knocking?”

Mulder listened thoughtfully and was careful to avoid starting yet another argument about the true date of the new millennium. “Well, Scully, bookings are down, and the rumour mill has caused the very important friends of the very important owner to make fun of his haunted hotel, so if that was their intention, it seems to have backfired.”

Scully shrugged. “The road hell is paved with good intentions.”

“Careful, Agent. Talk about hell too loudly in this town and they’ll be branding you a witch!” He paused, pretending to consider his slight partner as she sat opposite him stealing his fries. Her minimal make-up exposed her freckles and she looked young and very beautiful. “Actually, with your cunning ways and beguiling looks and all that book learnin’, you’d have been a prime candidate for having your name whispered to the magistrate by some disappointed pilgrim after you turned down his marriage proposal.”

“My cunning ways?” Scully laughed. “They don’t do me much good in this century. You manage to charm me into doing your bidding far more often than any self-respecting witch would ever allow. I don’t imagine it would have been much different in 1692.”

“Charming, huh?” was the only reply she received. She responded with the eye-roll it was intended to provoke, earning her a broad smile from her charismatic offsider. The candle on their table flickered, painting golden highlights through Scully’s coppery hair.

Mulder ordered coffee and chocolates to round off their meal. When they were done, he led the way back into the lobby to interview the night staff. The clerk behind the desk was the same affable young man who had registered them upon arrival, and he seemed ready to answer their questions. Yes, strange attacks by unseen assailants had been reported by guests from time to time. Yes, the frequency of incidents had increased noticeably in the past months. The victims were male, travelling with a partner and, as far as they could tell, thoroughly unpleasant.

“Unpleasant in what way?” prompted Scully.

“Bullies,” interrupted the night manager, as she appeared from the rear office. “They’re always overbearing men who have no hesitation belittling their partners in public. They tend to be red-faced and shouty, but not always. A few have been the quiet, vindictive type. We didn’t notice at first, but since the frequency of the attacks has increased this past year, the staff started comparing notes and we noticed the pattern. Now we keep a lookout for it.”

“Can you think of any reason the attacks have become more frequent?”

The co-workers exchanged glances and seemed to come to an unspoken if somewhat tentative, agreement. “Well…” the man began “once we saw the pattern, we might have rearranged a few room allocations to ensure that the men mistreating their partners at check-in all ended up in room 612. It seemed okay: the women are never hurt, and those guys deserved a taste of their own medicine.”

“Room 612? Why is that significant?” Mulder took up the inquiry.

“Oh, all the incidents happen to men staying in that room. We do get some unusual activity in other parts of the hotel, but the invisible attacker only seems to act in that room.”

Mulder caught Scully’s eye, seeking her permission for what he was about to do. She considered that simple courtesy a small victory and nodded her consent, even as the implications of her agreement set butterflies fluttering in her belly.

“Is 612 occupied at the moment?” he asked.

“No, as it happens. The couple who were in the room left late last night. The husband came lumbering into the lobby and claimed to have been assaulted, although the wife said a painting fell on him and then he tripped over a chair. When I asked for details of the attack he just started muttering and walked out. His poor wife was actually apologising for him.”

“And did the man fit your profile?”

“Yep. Big and mean.”

“Any chance we could have that room?” asked Mulder.

“It’s available tonight and tomorrow. After that, we’d need to move you to another suite as 612 has been specially booked – ghost hunters.” The manager rolled her eyes. Mulder grinned and flicked his gaze across to Scully as if to say, ‘Another sceptic!’ She quirked one graceful brow but declined to make any further public response.

“Great, thank you. We appreciate your time and co-operation. If you think of anything else, either of you, please let us know. You know where to find us!” Mulder flashed another of his winning smiles as he took the key to room 612 and followed Scully back into the elevator.

They went to first Mulder’s room, where he quickly repacked his bag and then went with Scully to her room where she, too, packed, taking rather more care than Mulder to ensure her clothes would still be wearable when required. They returned briefly to the lobby so Mulder could drop their original keys back to the front desk and then finally pushed the button for the sixth floor. The elevator rose ponderously, in the manner of elderly hotel elevators everywhere. Mulder jiggled about impatiently until Scully stilled him with a look. He grinned at her and bent closer to whisper, ‘Ghosts, Scully!’ His words sent a delicious shiver down her spine, and she knew it wasn’t the thought of a night of ghost hunting that had set her pulse racing.

\--

ROOM 612, HAWTHORNE HOTEL

8:00 PM

Room 612 was large and well-appointed in a classic style. It had a bath even larger than the one in her original room, so Scully was satisfied. She chose not to think too far ahead into the evening, simply depositing her bag in the bedroom and removing her boots before returning to the living area and her partner. He had dropped his bag by the door and was currently opening every closet in the place and peering out windows into the dark and quiet streets below. He scrutinised the large landscape painting hanging between the two windows in the living room. She watched him prowl for a moment and then gained his attention with a question.

“So, agent, what’s your plan? Do you intend to mistreat me in order to draw out our ghost?”

“Hardly. And technically, if the phantom is flinging around paintings and moving chairs, it’s a poltergeist. Let’s just settle in and see what happens, Scully. According to what I’ve read most of the action on this floor involves a female apparition in the hallway, although there are some reports of guests in this room feeling the unexpected touch of an unseen hand.”

“Well, now I _am_ nervous,” Scully deadpanned.

Mulder took a long look to assure himself she really was joking and then flopped down onto the couch. “Come on, Scully. I promise if you feel my hands on you it definitely won’t be unexpected.” He patted the seat next to him and waggled his eyebrows comically.

“Keep it up, Mulder and the ghost might appear after all because there _will_ be a fight.” Her words held no threat as, while still speaking, she slid down on the couch beside her partner, arms folded. “So now we wait?”

“I guess so. Looks like there are a whole lot of movies over by the TV. Why don’t you pick something for us to watch? I think the minibar falls under ‘generous expenses’ so I’ll go see what’s on offer.”

By the time Mulder sat back on the couch, placing a bottle of red wine and two glasses on the coffee table in front of him, Scully was back and smiling broadly. She waited to press play as he poured their drinks.

“Red, Mulder? I didn’t think you were all that fond of red wine.”

He shrugged. “You are.” He handed her a glass but didn’t quite meet her gaze, not sure whether to be pleased that she had noticed his thoughtful gesture. “So, what are we watching?”

Scully’s grin returned. “Did you know, Mulder, that ‘Bewitched’ filmed a number of episodes here in Salem?”

“Actually, I did. Did you know that they filmed in this very hotel?”

“Not until I read the little label stuck to this case. Maybe Elizabeth Montgomery is haunting our corridor!” She added, “I don’t remember all the Salem episodes, just the one with the possessed bedwarmer that follows Samantha around. Oh, and the one where the warlock creates a replica of Samantha because he’s been madly in love with her for years, but she wasn’t interested.”

“Poor guy!”

Scully instantly suspected the meaning behind Mulder’s softly spoken comment. She wasn’t quite ready to address it head-on, but she knew that time was fast approaching. They had been circling each other coyly since their New Year’s Eve kiss. Scully felt like a girl with her first crush and knew that they would have to address it soon, but the fluttery feeling in her gut every time she’d looked at Mulder since they’d kissed was nice. Very nice actually. So she was going to allow herself to enjoy the anticipation while it lasted. One or the other of them would give in to it soon enough, she knew. Not tonight though. Tonight, she was going to watch Bewitched, and drink wine and wait for a vengeful ghost in this very nice hotel with her very nice partner. She held up her glass in a silent toast, forcing Mulder to make eye-contact with her. When he did, she granted him a soft smile and tapped their glasses together gently.

“What are we toasting, Scully?”

“Hmm, red wine and haunted bedwarmers?”

“What’s wrong Scully? Cold feet?”

“It’s been a problem in the past. Not so much now.”

“Really? That’s good to know. Better let me check.” Mulder pretended to misunderstand her comment and reached down to grab one small foot, pulling it up and resting it across his knee, forcing Scully to shift position and recline against the arm of the couch. She huffed out a breathy laugh and lifted her other foot up to join the first in Mulder’s lap.

“Scully, your feet are freezing!” he yelped.

“Hence my need for that bedwarmer!”

“Well, until a haunted bedwarmer full of coals follows you back to your room, I’m happy to volunteer.”

“The bedwarmer in Bewitched was better behaved than you ever are, Mulder.”

“True, but I’m _much_ more fun.” Mulder wrapped one large hand around each delicate foot and began rubbing until they were warm. He shifted technique then and started kneading his fingers into Scully’s arches, squeezing and pressing, occasionally tickling her so she would try to pull away from his grasp. The television played on in the background as their glacier-slow seduction advanced, and the level of red wine receded.

In the end, they watched all of the Bewitched episodes that had been filmed in Salem. Somehow Scully ended up with her feet tucked under a cushion and her head relaxed on the couch near Mulder’s firm bicep. Mulder would periodically stand to peer out the door, hoping to entice the shy ghost to appear. Magically, each time he sat back down, Scully was a little closer to him and he became more and more reluctant to move. When her hands wrapped around his arm in a possessive hug, he stopped getting up entirely. The ghost would simply have to let herself in, for he was far too content to move. At some point, he moved the empty glasses to one side, switched off the television and the lamp, and propped his feet on the coffee table. Moonlight washed over them and Mulder was lulled to sleep by the sweet, regular breathing of his slumbering partner, nestled warmly into his side.


	3. Chapter 3

ROOM 612

WEDNESDAY 12 JANUARY

8:00 AM

The ethereal glow of moonlight had been replaced with pale winter sun. Scully’s breath hitched when she woke to discover her herself cradled in a strong arm, pressed into the soft wool covering Mulder’s broad chest. His arm was curled around her; his large hand under her sweater, resting warmly on her flat belly. She couldn’t pretend to be asleep as she knew he had to have felt her tense when she registered their entwined bodies. Rather than moving away, Mulder stroked his thumb back and forth over her smooth, sleep-warmed skin. He squeezed his arm around her just a little more snuggly. “Good morning. Looks like we fell asleep. Some ghost watchers we are!”

“Hi,” was the best she could manage under the circumstances. She lay quietly as Mulder’s thumb danced over her abs. She indulged in the caress until it started to feel a little too good. Since Mulder seemed in no hurry to stop, Scully maintained their contact whilst stretching like a cat, still firmly anchored by Mulder’s arm around her lithe frame, but successfully (regretfully?) halting the sensual action of his hand. She settled back against him and grabbed a fistful of his sweater. “This thing makes a great pillow”.

“I’m happy to be of service.” His voice was soft and low as he added, “I make a pretty good blanket too.” He gave her belly a gentle slap then slid his hand out from under the sweater and loosed his hold on Scully, allowing her to rise and stretch out again as she considered that comment. Mulder continued to sit and watch her move in the soft, bluish light. She felt his gaze and a pretty blush stained her cheeks.

“I’ll go and have a shower. Do you think we need to make a reservation for breakfast downstairs?” she asked.

“I’ll phone and check. Don’t use all the hot water!”

\--

HAWTHORNE HOTEL.

9:00 AM

Scully arrived at the breakfast table dressed more casually than normal, ready to work. Mulder had quickly taken his turn in the shower but needed to iron his clothes thanks to his hasty packing job the previous night. She’d left him to it to go and catch the front desk staff before they got busy with people checking out or making inquiries about tours and activities. The day team had repeated the stories of the night crew, adding only one new observation: the ghostly encounters always seemed to follow a day of sightseeing that included a visit to the Witch House. She shared this with Mulder when he arrived, freshly pressed, at the table. He stole a piece of her toast as he listened and sipped his coffee.

“Well, Scully… it seems like a responsible investigative team would follow up on this lead by spending the day sightseeing in order to replicate the experiences of the targeted couples.”

“You just want to visit the Witch House. You know there weren’t any witches living there, right?”

“Yes, smartypants, I know it was owned by one of the magistrates who ran the witch trials. But it’s the only wooden house of its type remaining from that era. I just think that’s cool.”

Scully finished her coffee and smiled fondly at her decidedly uncool but very handsome partner. “Come on then, let’s go do some cool stuff, Mulder.”

\--

SALEM, MA

9:30 AM

In spite of their sleep-in, it was still too early to visit historic houses that were running to a mid-winter schedule. Instead, they turned left into Charter Street, headed to the centre of town. They passed the memorial park and cemetery, planning to come back when the sun was a little higher, and the day a little warmer. The street was picturesque and sparkling, with tiny shards of frost trapping the soft morning light and making everything glitter. They started to pass couples who were beginning a morning of sightseeing. Most were walking hand in hand and pointing out to their companion whatever little detail caught their eye. After the third such couple, Scully reached out and slipped her hand into Mulder’s. He squeezed her hand lightly but otherwise acted as if it were no big deal. They continued on in this way until Scully let out a little shout and dropped his hand. She gestured to a mural painted on a brick wall adjacent to a small plaza further up on their left. It was Samantha from Bewitched, sitting in her trademark side-saddle pose on her broom, passing through a crescent moon. Mulder followed her over, enjoying her pleasure at the unexpected discovery.

“Scully, you’re cute when you fangirl,” he teased.

“Shut up, Mulder. I grew up watching Bewitched re-runs. I used to practise the nose twitch. My one regret is that I never turned Bill into a toad.”

Mulder chuckled. “You do have a very expressive nose,” Scully responded by scrunching her nose at him, expressively.

“Did you just try and turn me into a toad, young lady?” Mulder inquired.

Scully cocked her head and considered Mulder. “No, but you remind me a bit of Darrin when you’re being grumpy.” Mulder made a face, so she clarified: “The handsome Darrin!”

“Handsome huh?” He thought for a moment. “I seem to remember that most episodes of Bewitched ended up with Samantha and Darrin in a lip lock.” Mulder looked hopeful.

“Well, maybe if we solve this case, you’ll get lucky! Come on, ‘Darrin’. I want to find the town hall where they shot the dance party in ‘Hocus Pocus’.”

\--

As they walked along, Mulder shared his own historical interest in Salem.

“You know, Scully, that land next to the Bewitched mural…” He gestured back the way they had come. “That was the site of Judge Hathorne’s mansion. Hathorne was the magistrate who ran the witch trials with Corwin-the owner of The Witch House. He was considered cruel and prejudiced in his treatment of the women who were accused. He’s not remembered fondly– neither he nor Judge Corwin ever showed any remorse for their part in perpetuating the witch hysteria. The writer Nathaniel Hawthorne changed the spelling of his name to disassociate himself from his great, great grandfather, the judge.”

“Did _you_ know, Mulder, that Herman Melville dedicated Moby Dick to his friend Hawthorne?”

“I did not. You never cease to amaze me, Scully. Have you read any of Hawthorne’s books?”

“We studied The Scarlet Letter in high school: Hawthorne apologises for his ancestor’s behaviour in the introduction. He says that by accepting the shame for Hathorne’s behaviour he hoped to end the curse on his family. I wonder if he thought it worked? I haven’t read The House of Seven Gables. I thought I might buy a copy if we visit the house.”

“Good idea. We might have more luck staying awake reading than watching TV. Hopefully our magical mystery tour today will encourage the ghost out of hiding tonight.”

“Actually, there’s a movie I wouldn’t mind watching while we’re here. Have you ever seen Hocus Pocus, Mulder?”

“No, because I’m not a sixteen-year-old girl, Scully.”

“Well I was way past sixteen when it was released, but it’s a really fun movie. I know it’s not even close to Halloween, but I’d like to show it to you tonight if you’ll watch with me.”

“Can we have popcorn?” Mulder asked with a smile. He’d watch whatever Scully wanted just so long as she was curled up next to him.

“If you’re good today,” Scully quipped. “We’ll need to pick up a few supplies. The shops are starting to open, so let’s have a look while we’re in this part of town.”

Mulder followed along happily. He was thoroughly charmed by this laid-back version of his partner. She was relaxed, open and playful. If they managed to see the ghost tonight this might just rate as his best day ever.

\--

They browsed mostly tourist shops as they walked. Scully refused outright to go into any of the psychic parlours, despite Mulder’s pleading looks. She rejected wizards, witches, oracles and seers. She spotted the town hall and detoured down the alley to explain the scene from ‘Hocus Pocus’ so Mulder would recognise it during their movie night. He was an attentive pupil so, when they came to a small row of shops with offbeat crafts and quirky antiques, Scully relented and allowed herself to be led into New England Magic.

“This is cute, Mulder,” she conceded, browsing the crafts before wandering toward the central section of the store where the antiques and collectibles were housed. She was hoping to find some candles to enhance their movie experience that night. The antique candleholders were far beyond her budget for impulse buys, but high on a dusty shelf, she spotted a pair of old drinking vessels, the sides thick and irregular, with bubbles trapped in the cloudy glass. She called Mulder over and asked him to lift the glasses down for her. Wisely, he did not comment on her height limitations, instead relishing the opportunity to stand close to her as he reached past to pick up the glasses and hand them down to Scully. She did not move away as she examined her find and Mulder quietly rejoiced in her acceptance of his help.

Mulder’s attention eventually drifted back to the little shop. In the back corner, he noticed someone seated at a round, cloth-covered table. The man smiled in welcome. Mulder assumed this was the owner or manager and walked closer to say good morning. It was only when he neared the table that he saw the sign offering tarot readings, and the deck of cards sitting on the table. Scully had returned to the front of the store to find candles that would fit into the glasses. So, with no one to tell him no, Mulder sat down at the table opposite the neatly dressed man.

“Would you like a reading?” he asked.

“I would indeed.” Mulder glanced over his shoulder. “Perhaps a quick one?”

The man smiled. “Just two cards then. One for your past and one for your immediate future. Please shuffle the deck.” He indicated the pile of 22 Greater Arcana sitting on the dark blue cloth. Mulder lifted the deck and quickly shuffled the cards, again looking back to where he had last seen Scully. He returned the cards to the table. The man invited him to turn the top card.

“Ah, The Fool.”

Mulder heard a soft chuckle and found Scully standing over his shoulder, watching. “Shush, you!” he said.

The tarot reader watched their interaction with interest, then continued. “The card is reversed, which alters its meaning. It suggests that in the past you have acted impulsively, ignoring the potential consequences of your actions. In your work you have been blocked and have faced unseen dangers.”

Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance.

“In your personal life…well, this card suggests your past self may have been too immature to handle a truly loving relationship.” This time Mulder resolutely avoided looking back at his partner, although he was very conscious of her warmth at his back.

“Now, to your present self and the immediate future. Please shuffle the cards again. Let’s see if you have learned from those earlier lessons.” Mulder returned his card to the deck and expertly shuffled the small pile. He placed it back on the table and this time turned the top card without having to be asked.

Scully’s laugh was hearty as Mulder revealed The Fool for a second time.

“Okay. Point made…” he muttered. Scully instinctively reached out to soothe him by touching her hand to the back of his neck and squeezing gently. He leaned back into her touch, comforted by this simple gesture-if he was a fool, he was her fool.

“No. It’s the same card, yes, but this time the card is upright. It suggests new adventures and surprises if you are willing to take some risks. In your work, it may mean a new job on the horizon.” Mulder glanced at Scully then turned back to the man and shook his head. “Or fresh air breathed into an old project.” Mulder shrugged noncommittally.

“In your personal life, it indicates possibility. You may fear rejection, but this card suggests you should not hold back.” Mulder’s face remained neutral, but Scully allowed herself a soft smile, unseen by her partner, but witnessed by the card reader.

Mulder stood and was reaching for his wallet when the man said, “Perhaps your friend would like a reading too?” Just as Mulder was about to politely refuse on her behalf, Scully slipped past him and into his vacated chair. She had found Mulder’s reading intriguing and the fortune teller had kind eyes that invited her to indulge him, even if she could not bring herself to believe.

“Please, Miss, shuffle the cards”

Scully slipped The Fool back into the deck with a final snigger that earned her a little squeeze on the neck, and she deftly mixed the pile. She placed the cards back onto the cloth.

“This card will reveal your past. Please turn the top card and place it on the table.”

Scully flicked the card over to reveal her choice.

“The World, reversed,” said the man. “It indicates a lack of closure, things missing or incomplete.” Scully did not look at either man, instead focusing on the card. Mulder immediately thought of a dozen examples from the past seven years and blamed himself for all of them.

“A past relationship has coloured your experiences and held you back from the things that are truly important to you.” While Scully continued to stare resolutely at the card, Mulder tried to blame himself for this too but knew that it wasn’t about him.

The tarot reader could not help but sense the change of atmosphere and so did not linger in the past. “Let’s see what the cards indicate for your present self.” He gestured to the deck and Scully once again shuffled, replacing the pile on the table. She hovered her hand over the stack for a moment before lifting the top card and flipping it onto the table. It was The Magician.

“As above, so below. You are a go-between for the world above and the human world.”

“Well, you’ve long been my human credential, Scully, so that makes sense! Plus, there’s that whole ‘immortal’ thing,” chipped in Mulder. She reached up and briefly grasped the hand that Mulder had placed on her shoulder, recognising that he could sense her heightened emotions and wanted to help if he could.

“The Magician foreshadows infinite possibilities. Through sheer willpower, you may take potential and mould it into being. It’s time for you to tap into your inner power without allowing hesitation or limitations. The choice is yours, as it always has been, to create the opportunities for the changes you desire.”

“No limits, Scully.” Mulder ran his hand lightly from her shoulder up to the nape of her neck, grounding her; reconnecting, inviting.

“No holding back, Mulder,” she murmured. She flashed him a small smile, curious as to whether his thoughts had gone to the same place as hers had. She rose from the table, thanking the man as they paid for the readings and he wrapped her purchases.

As they turned to leave, she paused. “Sir, do you believe in ghosts?”

The man looked thoughtful. “I suppose I believe that some people have unfinished business that can be very compelling. It seems to me that the things we leave unsaid or undone, are the ones that prevent us from moving forward, in this life and the next.”

“Do you think ghosts are tied to places that were familiar in life?” asked Mulder.

“Places. People. Feelings. As human beings, we crave connection and will go to the most extraordinary lengths to establish and maintain those bonds. Attachments once made can be… persistent.” He paused and eyed the couple standing in front of him. “But this is a very esoteric topic for such a fine morning. Do you have a particular interest in the paranormal?”

Mulder grinned “You might say that, yes.”

“Well, you’re in the right town then. What plans do you have for your stay?”

“We’re going to visit the Witch House now, and my friend here is very keen to see the bedwarmer in the House of the Seven Gables,” Mulder responded.

“Ah, a Bewitched fan! Can you do the nose?”

Scully laughed and shook her head. Behind her, Mulder looked over at the man and nodded enthusiastically, until Scully looked around and caught him. He looked guilty but his grin was unapologetic.

“Toads, Mulder!” she threatened.

They were still laughing as they made their farewells and left the little shop. Noting the time, they turned in the direction of the Witch House, retracing their steps along Essex Street. The sun was high enough to have warmed the air and they strolled the short distance in companionable silence.

As they approached the large, grey house, Mulder mused, “You always keep me guessing, Scully. I’d have bet money that you’d say no to a tarot card reading.”

“Well, obviously I don’t believe in it, Mulder.”

“Well, obviously!” he echoed in an amused tone.

“But what he said to you, it was… interesting.”

“So, we’re all agreed I’m a fool then?” Mulder’s tone was light, but he was genuinely interested in her answer. Scully grasped his wrist, bringing them both to a standstill on the pavement, encouraging him to face her with gentle pressure on his arm. Words spilled from her lips, unfiltered.

“Mulder, we all do foolish things at times, but I have _never_ considered you a fool. You are the most fascinating man I have ever met. You are funny, crazy-smart, passionate and you have such a kind heart!” Scully’s honest declaration ground to a halt as Mulder’s eyes glistened and he raised one hand to cup her cheek.

His voice was thick with emotion. “I don’t deserve you, Dana Scully - but I am trying to.” He lightened the moment by bopping her gently on the nose as he stepped away. Scully tucked her small hand into the crook of his arm and they turned to walk up the path towards the Witch House’s front door, looking for all the world like a couple enjoying a pleasant day out; either their undercover skills had undergone a vast improvement since their time in Arcadia or perhaps they were just no longer pretending?


	4. Chapter 4

WITCH HOUSE

11:00 AM

Scully led Mulder across the lawn as if to admire the handsome old building from a different angle. Away from the tourists posing for photographs, she asked “Mulder, do you have a plan for this visit?”

“Not really. Just do as the other visitors do, I guess. Perhaps talk with the staff if the opportunity arises. If nothing else, we can learn a bit more about Salem at the time of the witch hunts. The house itself dates back even further than the trials: perhaps as early as 1620. Judge Corwin lived here for 40 years and his family owned it for 200.”

“It’s a beautiful building. Imagine what Salem would look like if all the buildings from this era had survived that factory fire in 1914,” Scully responded.

“It’s ironic that this is the one that survived,” Mulder mused.

“How so?”

“Well, Scully, local folklore…Don’t roll your eyes, you!” Mulder eyed her sternly and began again. “Local folklore tells us that the ghost of Giles Corey appears in the Howard Cemetery whenever a disaster is about to befall Salem. There are reports he was seen before the fire. Some accounts even suggest that the fire was part of Corey’s curse; revenge for the deaths of himself and his second wife at the hands of the witch trials. So, the fact that the chief judge’s house was the one to survive is…”

“…ironic. You’re right, Mulder, _if_ the ghost had started the fire to wreak his revenge on the judge, it would be a shame he missed this house, although it must have passed out of the Corwin family by then. Maybe that’s why it was spared?” Scully finished; her characteristic expression of disbelief was softened by a wicked grin.

“Fine, let’s go inside and mingle, you cynic!” Mulder placed his hand on Scully’s back and followed her around the building to the back door, where they were greeted by a friendly woman who took their price of admission and welcomed them to look around. It was a little busy inside, so Mulder and Scully headed for the stairs to begin their tour on the bedroom level. The stairs posed no problem for Scully’s slight build, but Mulder grumbled as he followed her up the creaking, winding staircase; his feet too big for the steps and the ceiling too low for his frame. Scully laughed to herself as she waited for him to join her in the first bedroom.

“You okay there partner?” she teased when he appeared through the doorway.

“Hey! I didn’t make fun of you when you couldn’t reach those glasses earlier,” he reminded her. A quick press of his large hand with her small one was all it took for Scully’s cheekiness to be forgiven.

They browsed the displays on this level, pointing out interesting objects and pondering the use of some unfamiliar items. In one room the bed was fitted with curtains. Scully motioned to them and said, “I used to think a bed like this would be cosy, but 6 years of being chased by monsters and attacked in the dark and I’d rather see what’s lurking.” Mulder nodded at her little confession and she continued to share her thoughts. “I have to say, this house doesn’t feel even remotely sinister. In fact, it’s very cosy.”

“Well according to the signs, the Corwins raised 10 children here. It was probably a noisy, happy place, aside from the Judge and his cronies.”

“True. I hope that’s the case. It’s a lovely old house. The woodwork is so precise. Not many of the buildings from today are likely to be standing nearly 400 years from now, are they? Are you ready to tackle the stairs again, big guy?” she added as they finished the final room.

“Yes, let me go first though, in case I trip over these enormous feet. I don’t want to squash you, Scully.”

The ground floor rooms were nearly empty now. Scully’s attention was instantly drawn to the many artefacts that had some sort of medical connection. There were recipes and preserved herbs, and various vessels and implements for concocting cures for all manner of ills. It seemed early Salem was rife with boils, broken hearts and stomach complaints. Mulder trailed happily after Scully, enjoying her interest in the displays. Now and then he’d stop to read a sign when something caught his eye.

“Scully why does every recipe or cure call for the inclusion of urine?” he called across the kitchen, attracting the amused attention of the volunteer standing by the doorway.

Scully walked over to join him, reading the recipe that had caught his eye.

“Fortune-telling bread? Really, Mulder? Do you suddenly have a burning need to find out…” she leaned in a little closer to read the details of the recipe “…the initial of your true love?” She stood back and smirked up at him, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

“No, actually, I think I’m good.” Her smile faltered just a little when she saw the gleam in Mulder’s eye, but she kept playing.

“Just as well, I’m not sure that the kitchen staff in the Hawthorne Hotel would be keen to lend you their oven pans for that particular dough!”

The volunteer laughed melodically at that exchange, and Scully and Mulder looked around at her and smiled. She was a woman around Scully’s age and of similar build, but with long, dark hair and deep, brown eyes.

“You’re staying at the Hawthorne?” she inquired. “Have you seen any ghosts?”

“Not yet, but we’re staying in room 612 tonight, so I’m hopeful,” replied Mulder.

“Judging from what I’ve seen, I don’t think you two have much hope of attracting that particular ghost’s attention.”

“Oh, really, why’s that?” Mulder glanced at Scully as he prompted the woman to continue.

“Goody Bishop tends to be roused by a need to protect women who appear vulnerable.” Her eyes met Scully’s. “You neither seem vulnerable nor in need of protection from your friend here.” Scully smiled back, feeling drawn to the open and engaging personality of the woman.

“You seem to know something about this. Is it general knowledge amongst locals?” Mulder wondered.

“It’s pretty common knowledge, but I do have a particular interest. I’m a direct descendent of Bridget Bishop. My name is Christian Mason. I was named for Bridget’s daughter.” Christian offered her hand, first to Scully and then to Mulder. They introduced themselves as FBI special agents and started to tell Christian about their interest in the hauntings of the Hawthorne Hotel. They were interrupted by Mulder’s cell phone. He looked at the screen, made a face and mouthed ‘Skinner’ to Scully, excusing himself to go outside and take the call. While he was gone Christian asked Scully about her obvious interest in the medical exhibits.

“I’m a medical doctor,” Scully explained. “Mulder thinks I would have been denounced as a witch had I been here during the trials.”

“He’s probably right,” said Christian. “It didn’t take much more than a rejected man or an unseemly amount of knowledge for a woman to be accused; especially a strong, beautiful woman.” The compliment was given without embarrassment and accepted in the same gracious manner. “I’d have most likely been in the court right alongside you, Agent Scully,” Christian continued. “When I’m not volunteering here, I sell herbs and natural remedies. This town attracts people who are open to alternative therapies, so I’m able to make a comfortable living.” She saw Scully’s expression become more guarded, so she clarified. “I don’t consider myself a witch if that’s what you’re thinking, and I don’t treat people who should be working with a medical doctor. I see what I do to be complementary and I focus on wellness rather than illness.” She smiled to show that she had not taken offence at Scully’s hesitation.

“Walter says hello, Scully,” interrupted Mulder as he re-joined the women. “He’s keen to hear about our progress; he’s been taking phone calls from Mr Hargrave’s senator friend. What it must be to have friends in high places! I assured him we were leaving no stone unturned.”

“Oh, Donald thinks he’s far more important than he really is,” Christian offered. “The amount of custom lost when a few blowhards get frightened away from the hotel is more than made up for by the ghost hunters who stay there because of the stories. Hargrave just doesn’t like being made fun of by his fancy friends in Boston.”

“Can you call our boss and tell him that? I’m not sure he’ll be satisfied if we suggest he should just call Mr Hargrave and tell him to toughen up!” Mulder said.

“Christian, are you free tonight? Would you have dinner with Agent Mulder and me? I think you can give us an insight into what might be happening at the hotel that we wouldn’t necessarily get from the staff there. I think they’re quite conscious of who signs their cheques each month.”

“I’d like that, Agent Scully, thank you. It’s always interesting to talk to people who live very different lives, isn’t it? And I’m more than happy to talk about Salem and its history. I love this town.” They made arrangements to meet in the hotel bar at the end of Christian’s shift at the Witch House. Mulder and Scully ended their visit and headed back out to the street.

“I hope that’s okay, Mulder. It just seemed like a useful opportunity,” said Scully as they rounded the corner back onto the main street.

“Of course! She seems like an interesting woman. What did you two talk about while I was chatting with Skinner? Your turn to take the next call, by the way.”

“She asked why I was so interested in the medical displays. She also agreed with your proposition that I’d have attracted the attention of the witch-finders, with all my book-learnin’ and such.” Scully laughed at Mulder’s smug expression.

“We still get to watch your movie afterwards though?” he asked.

“Christian’s shift finishes at 5:30 pm so I imagine we’ll be done by, what, 7:30 or 8? Plenty of time to introduce you to the Sanderson sisters.”

“The who?” Mulder had been daydreaming about another evening on the couch with Scully and had tuned her out for a moment.

“Never mind. All will be revealed tonight” she responded with a wink.

“You’re flirty today, Scully,” Mulder blurted out, then instantly wished he hadn’t, afraid that he’d just ruined the mood. Scully saw his panic face and couldn’t resist teasing him just a little.

“Want me to stop?” she asked him, with a mock-serious expression hiding her mirth.

“Hell no!” he assured her, his evident relief pouring off him in waves. Scully laughed at him.

“Come on then. Let’s go have some lunch and buy our treats for tonight.”

“Good idea. We can look at the witch trial memorial on the way back to the hotel. It would be useful to have some more background before we talk with Christian tonight.”

“Yes. But first, we can stop at the Ropes Mansion for a look,” added Scully.

“What connection does that have to the witch trials?”

“No idea. It’s one of the sets in ‘Hocus Pocus’. Keep up, Mulder!” Scully threw him a cocky smile as she strode off back towards the centre of town to find a restaurant. For once, it was Mulder who had to hurry to keep up.

\--

ROPES MANSION

12:00 PM

He didn’t have far to go. It turned out that the Ropes Mansion was the large white house where Scully had stopped to talk to him on their way to the Witch House. He had no recollection of seeing it then; he had been too focussed on Scully and her soothing words. She was now stopped in front of the path leading up to the door. A few other couples were posing for photos in front of the pretty entryway. Scully was standing to one side, happily waiting for Mulder to join her.

“This is where the kids go trick or treating in the movie. Dani throws a tantrum right on this spot,” she told him.

“You must really like this movie, huh, Scully?” Mulder said.

“I felt an affinity with Dani. She was this bratty little redhead whose big brother didn’t want to take her trick or treating,” Scully confessed.

Mulder stepped closer. “We’ll buy you all the candy you want for tonight’s show, Ms Scully. No tantrums required.”

“Anything I want, Mulder?” she smirked.

“Anything and everything!” Mulder’s reply, intentionally loaded, made her shiver. He noticed, and his gaze grew even more intense. Although Scully had started this little game, she suddenly felt she might be out of her depth. Mulder saw her hesitation.

“No limits, Scully,” Mulder reminded her. She nodded to acknowledge her understanding and her willingness to try. Mulder suspected that his partner, however flirty she might be today, would draw the line at a public display of affection while they were on a case, and did not push her any further. He sincerely hoped that in private it might be a different story. He was certainly more than ready to take the fortune teller’s advice to stop holding back.

“Let’s walk back to the shopping area, Scully, and catch a cab. There’s a restaurant I was going to suggest for dinner tonight, but since we’re eating at the hotel, I figure lunch there works just as well. It’s only about 5 minutes away, but it’ll take us much longer than that to walk back to the hotel for our car.”

“Sounds good, Mulder.” Scully was happy to go along for the ride.

\--

DUBE’S RESTAURANT, NORTH SALEM

12:30 PM

Dube’s was a Salem institution. All dark panelling and wooden tables, it was a cosy spot for a winter’s lunch and far enough away from the tourist strip that the room was dotted with locals. It had been the recommendation of the hotel clerk who was on duty that morning. Mulder had sought her advice as he passed through the hotel lobby to join Scully at breakfast. The menu at Dube’s was mostly seafood and burgers. Mulder made no comment when Scully ordered the grilled chicken salad, but he ordered sides of fried oysters and onion rings that he knew would tempt her: his choice of a Shrimp po’boy surprised no one. They added sodas to their order (“No iced tea, Mulder?” “It feels like a root beer kind of day, Scully.”) and then discussed the case while they waited.

“What do you think about Bridget Bishop as our ghost, Scully?”

“Apart from the fact that I don’t believe in ghosts, as I think I may have mentioned previously?”

“Yeah, apart from that,” he acknowledged.

“Why would she have appointed herself as judge and jury of room 612? Surely she has better options?”

“Hmm, I don’t know much about her specific case. Hopefully Christian might shed some light on that tonight. That still leaves us with the problem of what to do if it is her. Hargrave isn’t going to be interested in meeting his resident haunt. He wants the problem gone.”

The arrival of their drinks, followed in short order by their food, put an end to any real contemplation of the case. Mulder wrangled his messy sandwich; Scully ate her salad and they both shared the fried specialities. Scully left the restaurant satisfied and Mulder was rather too full. They found a cab again and asked the driver to take them to Charter Street so they could visit the witch trial memorial. As they turned into the street Mulder suddenly leaned forward and asked the driver to stop. He paid the woman and then hustled Scully out the door and across the street.

“Mulder, where are we going?”

“To buy you something sweet. Look!” Mulder indicated a store ahead of them in a pretty brick building. It had white-painted wooden doors and tall, multi-paned windows. Through the windows, they could see displays of chocolates, soft toys, and an old-fashioned ice-cream counter. Scully smiled broadly as Mulder held open the door for them to enter. The enticing smell of chocolate filled the air as they stood in the centre of the warm store and looked around. Mulder grabbed a basket and followed Scully around as she picked treats off the shelves. Dark chocolates, Red Vines, and soft, fluffy marshmallows were quickly selected. They both looked at the ice-creams on display, but neither had room after their lunch.

“We should come back before we go home,” said Scully. Mulder, always willing to indulge his often-abstemious partner, agreed happily.

\--

THE WITCH MEMORIAL

2:00 PM

Treats purchased, they crossed back over the road and walked along Charter Street to the entrance of the memorial. An older woman sat on the sidewalk with a cup, asking for loose change from passers-by. Scully saw Mulder quietly shift the bag of candy to his left hand and fish in his pocket for some change, which he deposited into the cup as he passed, smiling at the woman. It was a small gesture, but one which warmed Scully’s heart.

“You’re a good man!” the woman called after him. Mulder didn’t react to her praise. Scully put her hand to the small of his back and echoed the woman’s words.

“You _are_ a good man, Fox Mulder.” The sincerity in her tone was clear. Mulder looked over and briefly drew Scully to his side with a one-armed hug before turning his attention to the memorial that stretched out ahead of them. A small green space was surrounded by a pathway. Three sides of the path were bordered on the outer edge by a low stone wall. Jutting out from the wall were 20 granite benches. Each was inscribed with the name of one of the Witch Trial victims; 14 women and 6 men. Evidence of recent ceremonies and rituals was scattered around the site: candles, ribbons, smudging sticks and other objects were placed on and under the benches and tied to trees and fences nearby.

“Well, it certainly seems like this place has seen some recent activity,” observed Mulder.

“Yes, imagine how busy it will be next January first, when the new millennium actually begins,” goaded Scully. Mulder rolled his eyes theatrically at her blatant attempt to pick a fight with him.

“Seriously though Scully… the increased level of spiritual activity here could account for the increased paranormal activity in the hotel,” Mulder insisted.

“ _If_ ghosts existed.”

“ ‘If’ ghosts existed, yes.” Mulder sighed. “Scully, you’ve seen ghosts. Multiple times. Christmas Eve – Lyda and Maurice! Howard Graves in Philadelphia; the old people’s home in Worcester, not 3 hours from here…need I go on?”

“Please don’t! You’ve made your point. Yes, I’ve seen things I can’t explain with science. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to just accept that the ghost of a woman who died in the 1690s is haunting my hotel room because a bunch of druids or pagans or spiritualists wanted a novel way to see in the new year! The staff admitted they’ve been targeting particular guests by placing them in that room. Who’s to say they haven’t been staging the attacks too?”

“I’ll keep an open mind about that if you will!”

“Fine!”

Mulder allowed Scully the last word, mainly because he really had no evidence to back his claim and he was aware he had overreacted to her teasing. He walked over to the nearest bench to read the inscription and calm himself after their exchange, which had escalated quickly. It felt like they had been having the same argument for 6 years and Mulder sometimes wondered if there was any point to it anymore. He’d shown her ghosts, and spaceships and werewolves and she’d seen hallucinations and fighter jets and angry young men. In his heart, he knew that there were deeper truths that they both believed in, but fuck, some days he wouldn’t mind a win.

Scully had walked in the opposite direction to restore her equilibrium. She too read the benches as she passed by. Most of the names were unfamiliar until she came to ‘ _Giles Corey-pressed to death, September 19, 1692_.’ Someone had left a small cairn in tribute. The stones were smooth and round, of a similar material to the bench itself. The find presented Scully with the olive branch she needed to smooth things over with her brooding partner.

“Mulder?” she quietly caught his attention and he walked over to her.

“Why was Corey pressed to death? It seems the other were all hanged.”

“Corey refused to acknowledge the court. He wouldn’t enter a plea. Since hanging was a punishment for the crime of witchcraft, Corey received the appropriate punishment for refusing to recognise the authority of the magistrate. The other 19 were all tried, found guilty regardless of their pleas, and were hanged. At least 5 others died in jail whilst waiting for their trials. The youngest was only four years old!” Mulder warmed to the topic and, as Scully hoped he would, he soon forgot their disagreement as his enthusiasm took over. Her own impatience with him had almost immediately turned into regret: she had known that arguing about the date of the new millennium would make him bristle. Their encounter with the Millennium group was recent enough that Mulder’s shoulder still showed fresh, pink scars. She had miscalculated how much teasing he was willing to take. Fortunately, where she was concerned, his irritation rarely lasted long.

“It’s my understanding that few people actually believe that any of the accused were witches. Is that right?” Scully asked.

“Yes, by all accounts it was mass hysteria built on petty jealousies and spite. Those who confessed did so in the hope they might be excused, or due to their own fear.”

“So…” Scully proceeded cautiously now. She did not want to rekindle their argument, but they were meeting with Christian in a few hours and they needed to be on the same page of this particular X-File. “You don’t think that the events reported in room 612 are caused by witchcraft?”

“No, I don’t.”

“But it might be a ghost?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“You know Scully, some ghost hunters use Einstein to explain the presence of ghosts.”

She thought for a moment. “Conservation of energy? That energy is neither created nor destroyed, but merely changes form?”

Mulder smiled for the first time in the conversation. “Go Physics! Another theory, perhaps more relevant in this case, is that the emotions of troubled individuals build up in times of stress and are discharged into the environment. That energy impacts on the physical environment and is often interpreted as ‘ghostly’. It’s known as ‘Spontaneous Recurring Psychokinesis’.”

“So, in this case, the anger and violence of the men creates this effect?”

“Maybe. I’m more inclined to think it’s the women’s fear that triggers the incidents. That would make more sense given it’s the men who are the targets of the violence.”

“If it’s not a ghost?”

“If it’s not a ghost,” Mulder agreed. Impulsively, he reached out and held a lock of Scully’s hair that had been blown out of place by the cool breeze. He gave it a gentle tug before tucking the strands back behind her ear. “You are such a tease!”

The smile he received in reply shot straight to his core. It held the promise of so much more to come, and it thrilled him. He’d have gladly given up the case at that moment if it meant that Scully would follow through on that smile.

Instead, they went and found the memorial bench for Bridget Bishop. It was heavily adorned with candles, shells, feathers and other tributes. “She was the first to be hanged, yes?” queried Scully.

“I think so, although not the first to be arrested. I’m interested to hear what her great, great, great, great, great, great, great, (…great?) granddaughter can tell us.”

“I am too. Between her job at the Witch House, and any family history she may have access to, she may be our most useful contact.”

“Do you want to go and look at the headstones in the cemetery, Scully, or do you feel we have enough background to follow the conversation with Christian tonight?” Mulder indicated the gateway at the end of the memorial that led to the Burying Point, where many of the townsfolk were buried, although none of the witch trial victims was interred there.

“It may be more helpful to come back tomorrow once we’ve heard Christian’s story. It should give us more context around the relationships and make it easier to understand what we’re seeing.”

“Shall we head back to the hotel then?”

“I think so. We can make a table reservation for tonight and make sure Bridget hasn’t rearranged the bookshelves while we were out!” Mulder grinned at Scully’s quip.

“She might have left you a spell or two, Scully. I sense you two might have been kindred spirits.”

“I hope it’s the one that turns annoying boys into toads. All my dreams would be fulfilled.”

“All of them?” Mulder quirked his head to one side and eyed Scully curiously. “That seems to demonstrate a particular lack of imagination, agent.”

Scully’s voice dropped so Mulder had to lean in close to hear her reply. “Dreams and fantasies are two different things, Mulder. I’m prepared to let your ghost give me a cooking lesson, but the rest I’ll take care of myself thanks.” For the second time that day, Mulder found himself hurrying to follow the retreating back of his diminutive partner as she left him standing slightly open-mouthed on the pavement. He recovered quickly as the import of her words hit him with full force. Their hotel was only a few minutes away and they were both still smiling as they entered the lobby. Scully went and organised a table for 6:00 PM, then they rode up to the sixth floor.

Back in room 612, Mulder placed the bag he’d been carrying on the coffee table. Scully reached into it and removed her candles and the glass holders, unwrapping one of the glasses and dropping a tealight candle into it. She left it on the coffee table, intending to light it while they were watching Hocus Pocus. The candy and chocolate she put over by the minibar.

Mulder checked around the room to ensure nothing was out of place. Finding everything as it should be, he flopped down on the couch with a groan. “I’m still too full of lunch.”

“Why don’t you go for a run?”

“I might. Join me?”

“I thought I might have a bath. We only have this room for one more night and the next one may not have a bath in it.”

Mulder looked at her like he was considering making a lewd comment, or even offering to join Scully, but he refrained, and went to change into his running gear. She felt vaguely disappointed at his uncharacteristic restraint, even though she was almost positive she’d have turned him down if he had suggested it. He headed out while Scully ran the bath and organised a change of clothes. On impulse, she collected the candle in its holder and took it into the bathroom with her, having found matches in the drawer of a bureau by the front door.

Although the day had been fine, dusk was already falling, and the bathroom was full of shadows. Scully lit the candle and set it by the foot of the deep bath, leaving the door to the bedroom ajar. She piled her short hair up into a high, spikey ponytail to keep it dry. Finally, she poured some shower gel under the tap in lieu of bubble bath and quickly undressed and stepped into the fragrant water. Dinner was still a couple of hours away, but Mulder would need a shower when he returned from his run. The suite would also be a lot less peaceful once he returned. She rested her head against the rim of the tub and allowed her body to relax into the warm water. The flame of the candle by her feet flickered. The glow it produced bounced off the tiles, sending shadows careening around the bathroom. Outside, streetlights blinked on as the daylight faded.

Apart from their brief spat at the memorial, she thought her day with Mulder had been pretty perfect. It was so rare that their cases were like this. Hell, they’d managed to sit down to breakfast and lunch _and_ had dinner plans. They’d played tourist and gone shopping. And then, there was the tarot reading. Scully chuckled, remembering Mulder’s face when he revealed the Fool card for the second time. Their readings had felt eerily accurate, although she supposed that most people of their age could reasonably be expected to have experienced some loss and broken relationships in their past. She pondered the advice the tarot reader had offered her. Was it finally time to take the potential she knew was there with Mulder and will it into being? If it really was a choice, was it a choice she was ready to make? Most days she was fairly certain it was. And since the kiss on New Year’s Eve, she was confident Mulder was a sure thing. She grinned again. Nothing about Mulder’s behaviour in the past couple of days gave her reason for pause: after all, she had woken that morning with his hand inside her sweater!

Scully was beginning to deeply regret organising dinner with Christian. Her work ethic would be her ruin. Thank heavens it was an early meal! And the woman was interesting: she’d enjoy their conversation and let the rest of the night take care of itself.

The renewed guttering of the single candle drew Scully’s attention to the darkened room. It felt chilly. She realised she hadn’t drawn the curtains in the bathroom or adjacent bedroom and hoped that the low lighting level would save her modesty. They were in the (allegedly) most haunted room of a well-known hotel and there were plenty of photographs of these very windows shared on bulletin boards by ghost enthusiasts. She would have to hope they had all taken the night off. The candle flickered again, and Scully wondered whether she’d missed hearing Mulder open the door. There definitely seemed to be a draught.

“Mulder?”

There was no response. Had he been in the suite he would have heard her, and it seemed incredibly unlikely that he would ignore an invitation to visit her in the tub. The candle flickered for the third time and sputtered out. Scully was glad she had thought to leave a light on in the next room. Her mood of pleasant speculation was broken, so she stood and quickly stepped out of the bath to wrap herself in a fluffy, white towel. She dried off and moved into the bedroom to close the curtains and the door to the living area. She dressed quickly. Returning to the bathroom she was startled to find the candle once again burning brightly.

“These ghost stories are starting to get to me,” she thought. Scully flicked on the bathroom lights then walked around the tub and blew out the candle. The cloudy glass with its bubbles and ripples was stained with a thin black layer of soot, no doubt caused by the flame licking the interior surface of the vessel.

Scully pulled the curtains closed, grabbed her make-up bag and went back to the bedroom, firmly closing the bathroom door behind her. She took down her hair and smoothed it out, applied eye shadow and mascara, added some warmth to her cheeks with a light swipe of blush, and was just adding lip gloss when Mulder knocked on the bedroom door. She invited him in.

“Need some help?”

“Putting on my lip gloss?”

“No. Taking it off.”

Scully spun around and looked at her partner. He was smiling but his steady gaze held a challenge. She finished applying the gloss and walked over to him. She tilted her face up to him. ‘Your move, Mulder,’ she thought.

He had tracked her progress across the room. Now he bent his head down, closing the distance between them. He was sweaty and heat radiated from his bronzed skin. He stopped just as his lips hovered over hers.

“No limits, Scully?” No sooner had she started to shake her head in agreement than his lips feathered hers. Conscious that he was wet and smelly, he kept his distance. Only their lips touched. It was flirty and sweet, with a promise of more to come. He broke the kiss and stepped back out of the doorway to allow his beaming partner to pass by him into the living area. “I should have done that on that case in Oregon when I invited you for a run: I wanted to.”

“Mulder, if you’d tried to kiss me on our first case, I’d have knocked you flat,” retorted Scully as she left the room.

“Would’ve been worth it,” he teased. “I’ll go get ready for dinner; I’m really looking forward to my dessert.” He swung the bedroom door closed, leaving Scully alone to anticipate the evening ahead.

\--

When Mulder emerged from the bedroom twenty-five minutes later, he had showered, shaved and dressed in his grey suit, with a navy shirt, and matching tie. His hair was damp, giving him a freshly scrubbed, boyish look. Scully smiled her approval.

She was wearing a silky blouse that, when paired with a suit, looked ultra-professional. Tonight, tucked into a dark pencil skirt and paired with the same ankle boots she’d worn on the previous evening, the shirt emphasised her graceful curves and the champagne colour glowed in the lamplight. She was elegant and understated and utterly devastating. Mulder walked over to her and held out his hand, which she took and then wrapped in both of hers, drawing him in close. He slipped their room key into his pocket and led the way to the elevator.


	5. Chapter 5

As the doors opened at ground floor level they separated, but not before Christian, entering the lobby, saw them outlined between the doors with their hands linked. Scully briefly considered being embarrassed, but the warmth of the other woman’s smile made her realise that there was no judgement in her assessment of them. Mulder, who was rarely embarrassed, even when he should be, did not consider it: there was not a world in which his being linked with Scully would ever cause him a moment of shame.

“Christian, thank you for coming.” Mulder welcomed the woman sincerely. He was excited to hear her story, hoping it might provide some insight into their case. “Do you know this hotel at all?”

  
“A little. There’s a library in the basement that I’ve used on occasion for research. It has some interesting old books about charms and poultices. I’ve never stayed here, and I don’t tend to spend a lot of time in bars. My partner and I socialise in our own neighbourhood. We’re a little closer to Danvers-what used to be known as Salem Village. It was and still is, the poor cousin to Salem proper. Like many tourist towns, the locals here can’t afford the prime real estate.” She said this without rancour. Scully had rarely met a person who appeared so grounded. She found Christian’s presence incredibly calming.

  
The trio presented at the restaurant and was seated in a quieter spot than Mulder had chosen the previous evening: Scully had requested a table where they could have a conversation in some privacy. Christian ordered a soda and Scully and Mulder followed suit since they were still on the clock. The menus were quickly consulted, and selections made. Neither Mulder nor Scully was particularly hungry, so they were pleased when Christian selected the soup and were happy to do the same. It was served with warm crusty bread that smelled so good that they were tempted to indulge in spite of their big lunch. They chatted as they ate, asking Christian about her work at the Witch House. She entertained them with tales about some of the stranger visitors she had met during her volunteer hours. “Around Halloween, we get lots of tourists who are mostly here to dress up and drink, but we also get a few who claim to be ‘called’ to the house. Every year we find at least one well-meaning practitioner cleansing the grounds of the house or lighting smudge sticks in an upstairs room.”

  
“Do you have supernatural activity at the house?” Mulder wondered.

  
“Honestly? Not really. People try to suggest that Judge Corwin used the house to question some of the accused, but really, he had a household full of children and servants. It seems very unlikely he would have allowed ‘witches’ into his front parlour for a chat. Visitors have claimed to hear the voice of a child and feel cold spots or to have been touched by an unseen hand.” Mulder glanced at Scully and she steadfastly refused to smile at the memory of his quip the previous evening. Christian continued “You were there today. Did you feel anything?”

  
“Actually, I remarked at the time that the house felt quite cosy and homely,” said Scully.

  
“Apart from the urine bread recipes,” injected Mulder.

  
“Well, yes. There were a few unusual artefacts. What do you think Christian?”

  
“I’ve never felt uncomfortable there.” She paused for a moment, thinking, then added “There is one object that makes me uneasy. It’s a poppet. Do you know what that is?” Both agents nodded. “It’s rumoured to have been found in Bridget Bishop’s house. It is certainly very old, and rather unsettling. Whether or not the owner of that little doll was a witch, it was used to convict Bridget of witchcraft, so if malice was intended the maker was certainly successful!”

  
Now that Christian had introduced the topic of her relative, Mulder felt it appropriate to begin to question her about the stories surrounding the Witch Trials. He started with a statement designed to encourage Christian to talk.

  
“Bridget was the first to be hanged, but she wasn’t the first accused or arrested.”

  
Christian smiled. “Have you read the transcript of her trial?” Mulder and Scully both shook their heads. “ She lost her temper with Judge Hathorne; it seems she rolled her eyes at him.” Mulder’s whole body swung around to face Scully when he heard that. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, which made all three of them laugh.  
“She embarrassed the judge. Bridget had already been acquitted of having tried to kill her second husband via witchcraft-he was the father of my namesake. Bridget was known to argue with her third husband in public and to dress in a ‘flamboyant’ fashion. Judge Hathorne felt she treated him with the same disrespect she showed her husbands.”

  
“Flamboyant?” prompted Mulder.

  
“A red corset, ribbons and lace. She was an easy target and Hathorne willingly accepted the testimony of five young girls who said Goody Bishop tried to have them pledge themselves to the devil. The ‘discovery’ of the poppet in the foundations of her house was the final nail in her coffin. She was hanged in June and by the following year, the hysteria was largely over. The judge who presided with Hathorne resigned after Bridget’s trial. He was said to have been uncomfortable with the proceedings. Judge Corwin took his place, but largely let Hathorne continue to interrogate the accused.”  
  
“Christian, do you think Bridget Bishop’s ghost is haunting room 612?” Mulder asked. Christian’s answer was considered.

  
“I think perhaps that people use the term ‘ghost’ to describe the energy that they notice in certain places when it feels unusual, or unpleasant in some way.”

  
“Ah, another Einstein fan. You should read Agent Scully’s doctoral thesis; you’d like it.”

  
Christian smiled, “I’m sure I would. As humans, when we don’t fully understand something, we tend to try to name it and catalogue it so as to make it less scary. And when that lack of knowledge persists through generations, the mythology grows, until we all reach a shared understanding of a term even though that understanding is incomplete, or wrong. Though most people wouldn’t claim to have ever encountered a ghost, we all understand the idea; unexplained chills, a sense of fear, unseen hands or breath on the back of the neck. Whether or not you believe in ghosts as the disembodied spirit of a particular individual, I think we can all sense disrupted energy when we encounter it.”

  
“If this particular energy is somehow connected to Bridget, can you suggest why she might be linked to this place? Certainly, the hotel wasn’t here in Bridget’s day.” Mulder probed. He was enjoying this conversation and could see that Scully was too, although she was letting him do most of the talking. Christian seemed to be creating a bridge between his storytelling and Scully’s science. He vaguely wondered if she was available on a regular basis for couples’ counselling.  
“I can only speculate. There are family stories about Bridget’s ghost going all the way back to the time of her hanging. That’s not unusual in this part of the world. The spiritual and the physical are spoken of as interconnected realities. Some have suggested Bridget’s apple orchard was on this land, but that’s not the case as far as we can tell. Her trial took place close to here, although she wouldn’t have been buried in the Charter Street cemetery as it was considered far too holy for those convicted of witchcraft. She’d have been buried in a shallow grave outside of town after her hanging. The family may or may not have reclaimed her body for a decent burial at a later date.” Christian paused as if considering her next words.

“If I had to guess, from what I’ve heard of the encounters, I think Bridget’s energy seems to protect women from violence. She couldn’t save herself so she’s trying to save others. Perhaps the rituals held at the memorial are somehow channelling her energy in a way that makes it more visible?” She concluded, “It’s really not my area of expertise, I’m sorry.”

  
“Please don’t be sorry, you’ve been extremely helpful,” said Scully. She smiled warmly at the other woman.

  
“Yes,” added Mulder, “it is our area of expertise and you’ve articulated it much more clearly than we have!”

  
Christian considered them both for a moment and then spoke again. “If you’ve asked all your questions, I wonder if I might ask a favour?”

  
The agents regarded her with interest.

  
“Could I see room 612 if it wouldn’t be too intrusive? I’ve always been curious, but I’ve never had the opportunity to actually go into the room.”

  
Mulder discretely sought Scully’s approval before nodding. “Just let me finalise things here, and we can head upstairs.” He rose and approached the desk to speak with a staff member. Scully and Christian also stood, Christian gathering her things as Scully waited. Together they walked out into the lobby, where Mulder joined them soon after. As they chatted in the elevator, Christian invited them to visit her little store if they had time during the remainder of their stay. Scully was curious and said they would try to stop by. When they exited into the hallway of the sixth floor, both Mulder and Scully watched attentively, wondering if Christian would react in any way. But she merely stepped back and allowed them to lead the way to the room.

  
“I have been up here before. The staff are good about letting local people look around the hotel as long as we don’t disturb the guests. I can’t say I’ve ever sensed Bridget’s presence.”

  
They reached the room and Mulder retrieved the card and unlocked the door. He stood to one side and allowed the women to enter. Scully flicked the light on and led Christian into the living area then stood back quietly. Mulder joined her and they watched Christian look around.

  
“It’s a lovely room,” was her only comment.

  
“Do you feel any unusual energy?” asked Mulder. The woman smiled and looked pointedly at the agents.

  
“It feels like the energy in here is definitely heightened. I wouldn’t say that was down to the ghost though.” Christian’s gaze remained serene as the atmosphere between Mulder and Scully became even more charged. “What are the other rooms?”

  
“Bedroom and bathroom,” replied Scully as she walked past Christian to open the door, wondering whether Mulder had left his things lying around after he changed. He hadn’t, the bedroom was tidy, with nothing to show who was sleeping in there. Scully’s mild relief turned to puzzlement when she opened the bathroom door, expecting the room to be dark, only to find the candle burning brightly.

  
“Mulder, did you light the candle when you took your shower?” she asked abruptly.

  
“No, I was in and out pretty quickly. I think I’d have noticed it burning when I turned out the light as I left, but maybe not. Is it possible you left it burning after your bath?” he replied.

  
“Definitely not. It blew out itself just as I was getting out of the tub, or I thought it did. I went into the bedroom to dress. I’d closed the door behind me because I’d forgotten to close the curtains. Once I had clothes on, I came back in to shut the curtain before I turned on the light to collect my make-up. The candle was lit. I figured it must have just guttered as I was leaving the room. Maybe the breeze caused when I shut the door was enough to relight it? But I definitely blew it out before I went back into the bedroom, and then you came back from your run and went to have a shower.” Scully couldn’t believe how comfortable she felt having this personal conversation in front of Christian. The woman had such a comforting way about her. Scully wished she could know her better. As she thought all of this, Christian walked all the way into the bathroom and looked closely at the glass containing the candle.

  
“Did you buy this after visiting Witch House today?” she asked.

  
“No, I found a pair of those glasses in a little store just down the road from here. We were too early for any of the tourist buildings to be open, so we just went for a walk and ended up doing a big loop.”

  
“Was the store ‘New England Magic’?” Christian asked.

  
“That’s right, isn’t it, Mulder?” He nodded.

  
Christian smiled briefly, then explained “This glass matches the ones in Witch House. They were on display on the dining table, but a visitor bumped the table and one glass broke, so we packed the rest away until we could restore the set or arrange the table in a way that made it less obvious that one was missing. Were there any others for sale?”

  
“No, but you can take one of these. I really only needed one. Let me go and get the one that’s still wrapped.” Scully led the way out of the bathroom and back through the bedroom into the living area. She walked over to the side table where she’d left the glass and unused candle. She picked it up and handed it to Christian, who looked pleased. “I’ll keep the candle-we can use it instead of the self-lighting one in the bathroom.”

  
“Thank you, Agent Scully. The curator will be pleased. The ones we have are original to the house from Corwin’s time. She’s been anxious to get them back on display. We’ll make sure they’re further away from the table’s edge this time.”

  
Christian placed the glass carefully in her tote bag and glanced at her watch. “Thank you for letting me see the room. I hope you’re able to solve your case. I should be going. My partner will be waiting for me in the carpark. He stayed back at work a little to wait to take me home. Thank you for dinner. It’s been a most interesting evening.”

  
“Thank you, Christian. We’ll see you downstairs to make sure your ride is here,” said Scully.

  
They grabbed their coats and rode the ancient elevator again without incident. They took the door that led to the carpark and Christian looked across the dimly lit area for a moment and then waved. Headlights lit up and shone directly at them as a car started up and turned in their direction. It pulled up alongside them and Christian bent down to kiss the driver hello. When she straightened, she turned to Mulder and Scully. “This is my partner, Michael. I have a funny feeling you may have already met.”

  
Mulder and Scully stepped forward to acknowledge the introduction. Looking up at them was the man who had told their fortunes that morning!

  
“It’s a small world, isn’t it?” he said in an amused voice. “I hope you all enjoyed your dinner.”

  
“We did, thank you. Christian has given us a lot to think about,” replied Scully. Mulder stood there grinning at this unexpected turn, then reached out to shake Michael’s hand.

  
“Please come and find me in my store,” reminded Christian, as she stepped into the passenger side of the car. “It’s near the House of Seven Gables. I think you’ll find it interesting.” She paused. “Enjoy the rest of your evening!” she added, with a smile ghosting her lips and one eyebrow gently raised.

  
She touched Michael’s arm and they drove away. Mulder put his hand to Scully’s back, and they turned and went back to the lobby.

  
“That was…surprising,” said Mulder as they climbed yet again into the elevator. He leant around Scully to press the button for the sixth floor. The doors closed slowly and the cage began to rise.

  
“I’d like to make time to see Christian’s store tomorrow if we can,” said Scully. “I’m curious as to how she operates. She’s an interesting person, isn’t she?”

  
“She is. Do you subscribe to her energy theory, Dr Scully?”

  
“I can accept it as a working hypothesis. Will that do?”

  
“It will for tonight. Tomorrow we can check out the cemetery and go visit your bedwarmer.”

  
“Hmm, I seem to recall you volunteering for that job last night.”

  
“Say the word, Scully!” growled Mulder, bending down so his mouth was close to her ear.

  
Scully was saved from saying anything at all by the arrival of the carriage on their floor. She shot Mulder a look that he couldn’t quite read, and then stepped out of the elevator and walked to their door, waiting for Mulder to find the key and let them in. Mulder, sensing she needed a moment, turned on the lights and kept walking through to the bedroom to change into something more suited to their movie night. Suitably attired in forest green pyjama bottoms and a white tee, he returned to the living room to find Scully had set out the chocolates and candy; a glass of red wine for herself, and a beer for him. She’d also produced a bag of sunflower seeds from her secret Scully-stash, knowing her sweet tooth was much stronger than his and he likely wouldn’t eat the candy.

  
She headed to the bedroom to change. Just before she disappeared through the door she heard, “Hey, Scully?” She turned back to see Mulder advancing on her.  
“You’re gorgeous.” He stopped in front of her when the smile that had started to form on her lips slowly receded as she frowned and worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

  
“I just needed to say it. I think it all the time, but for once I wanted to tell you.” He shrugged and ran his index finger down her forehead and onto the bridge of her nose to smooth away the frown lines. She closed her eyes and took several slow breaths. When she opened her eyes he was still right there, waiting. This time the smile took a proper hold.

  
“Thank you.” She reached up and clasped his jaw to pull him down into a kiss. It was not the sweet New Year’s Eve kiss, nor was it the challenge she had put to him earlier that evening. It was need, and want, and aching tenderness. She pulled away before he could deepen the kiss, running her thumb along his full lower lip. She tapped him lightly on the cheek and stepped away.

  
“I’ll be right back,” she promised.


	6. Chapter 6

ROOM 612

7:30 PM

When Scully returned, she had changed into navy pyjamas and washed her face clean of make-up. She brought with her the freshly washed candle holder from the bathroom, placing it over by the television, inserting the new candle and lighting it. “I figure if it’s in here we can keep an eye on it,” she explained. She flicked on the lamp by the desk and turned off the overhead lights so the room was bathed in a warm glow.

When she sat down right at one end of the couch Mulder said nothing, but he frowned. He had been counting on recreating their cosy position from last night. Scully saw his face and laughed, holding out one hand in invitation.

“Come lie down.”

Mulder scrutinised Scully’s face to make sure he had understood her correctly. He must have been reassured for he sat on the middle cushion then raised his legs so his feet hung over the opposite armrest and lay back with his head in Scully’s lap. Her fingers went straight to his hair, rhythmically smoothing it back from his forehead, scraping her nails lightly over his scalp. Mulder closed his eyes for a long moment, just enjoying being touched so lovingly. When he opened his eyes, they met Scully’s big, blue ones, watching him. She smiled down at him and ran one elegant finger between his brows, down his nose and over his plump lips before tapping him once on the chin. Then she leaned forward, over him, pressing her satin-covered belly against his cheek for a moment as she reached towards the coffee table. She sat back, handed him his beer and pressed play on the remote control. He took a sip of the beer and rolled onto his side so he was facing the TV, tucking his long legs up so he could fit on the couch. His right hand swung up and onto Scully’s knee. He squeezed gently as the opening credits began playing.

“Disney? You’re making me watch a Disney movie, Scully?”

“Shut up, Mul…Hey! I’ve never noticed that before. The book in the titles has the year 1693 embossed on the cover.”

“Historically accurate _and_ entertaining. Good choice, Dr Scully.” He picked his beer up off the floor and took another drink. Scully waited until he was finished and then stretched to grab her wineglass. She held it in her left hand and used her right one to trace the outline of Mulder’s ear and jawline; firmly, so it didn’t tickle. Even so, she felt his body shiver against her. They watched the opening scenes quietly.

“Why do I recognise the blonde witch?” Mulder asked.

“It’s Sarah Jessica-Parker. Sex and the City?”

“Oh, okay. I don’t think I’ve ever watched that though.”

“What about Mars Attacks. I know you’ve watched that!” Mulder nodded in recognition. He reached for the box of dark chocolates on the table and rolled onto his back so he could reach up and offer one to Scully, holding it to her mouth. Her lips twitched into a smile as she opened them just enough to accept the treat. Mulder’s return smile was slightly bashful as he rolled back to face the screen. He was testing her limits and she wondered how long it would be before he realised she no longer had many as far as he was concerned. He watched the characters walk through Salem Common.

“That’s the park across the road isn’t it?”

“Yes. Wow, it’s really pretty in the fall. We should go for a walk tomorrow and see what it’s like at this time of year,” agreed Scully. “And from what I could see over the fence yesterday, that looks like the Burying Point. It’s fun watching this whilst actually in Salem.” She ran her hand lightly down Mulder’s arm. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Mulder grabbed her hand and linked their fingers together, drawing her hand towards his mouth so he could press a kiss to it. He dropped their linked hands to his chest and left them there while they watched Salem landmarks appear on the screen.

“That’s the Ropes Mansion!” he noted at one point. Scully grinned and nodded. She continued to sip slowly at her drink, while, on the TV, Dani whined her way into making Max take her trick or treating. Mulder watched the movie quietly until Max lit the Black Flame candle, summoning the witches back from the dead. He rolled onto his back once more and smirked up at Scully.

“Maybe your candle will summon Bridget Bishop tonight, Scully.”

She played along, straight-faced, “The Black Flame candle has to be lit by a virgin, Mulder; that ship has sailed.” She took her hand back and pinched his side lightly. Mulder gave her a wicked grin and rolled back to the TV. He grabbed his beer and took a long draught. When he placed the bottle back on the carpet his hand wrapped around Scully’s ankle. She pulled away. “Your hand is cold!” He chuckled and released her, tucking his hand into his armpit to warm his fingers.

They turned their attention back to the screen once more, just in time to see the witches reanimate the lover that Winifred had poisoned back in 1693.

“Zombies, Scully? Come on!”

“Oops! Too soon? I forgot about Billy. It’s okay, he’s a good zombie. He’s just misunderstood.”

“I hate zombies,” Mulder mumbled. Scully slid her hand into the neck of his tee-shirt to where his shoulder had been injured on New Year’s Eve. Her fingers ghosted soothingly over the fresh scar, causing Mulder to suck in a sharp breath.

Scully stilled her hand. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. No. Doesn’t hurt; feels good,” he admitted quietly. Scully smiled and resumed her gentle caress; it was liberating to be able to touch Mulder without needing a cover story.

Mulder’s rewarmed fingers crept back to Scully’s ankle. He wrapped his hand around her foot, rubbing and squeezing. When she didn’t pull away this time he grew bolder and slipped his hand up inside the hem of her pyjama leg. He stroked his way up her calf until the material impeded his progress and he reversed the movement. He lost track of the movie plot for some time, so absorbed was he in the way Scully’s hand on his chest made him feel so safe, and how his fingers kneading into her leg muscles made her hum. Scully must have been distracted too because a scream from the television made her jump. She laughed at her own fright and took her hand away from Mulder’s warm skin. He followed suit and withdrew his hand. They both reached for their drinks and sipped for a moment before Mulder picked up a marshmallow from the plate and offered it to Scully. She accepted it with a smile and popped it into her mouth, letting the sweet cloud melt on her tongue. Mulder lay looking up at her as she watched the end of the movie. He was surprised to see her eyes well up with tears as Zachary was reunited with his sister. He sat up quickly and turned his body towards hers before she could react. He raised his hands and swiped his thumbs across her cheeks, causing the tears to spill down. He wiped them away.

“Hey,” he whispered, a tender smile letting her know that he wasn’t bothered by this rare display of emotion. Scully let her head rest for a moment against his hand and chuckled shyly. He was close enough to smell the sugar on her breath and wondered if her lips would taste of marshmallow, chocolate, or wine.

“Scully?” he breathed, seeking permission to investigate. She raised her wet eyes to his and nodded.

Mulder leaned in the rest of the way, all but closing the gap between them. He hovered his mouth over hers, lips slightly parted. Chocolate. He could smell the rich, dark chocolate on her breath. It reminded him of the store they had visited that afternoon and Scully’s happiness at his sweet gesture. He smiled, still maintaining the slight distance. Just as Scully was about to take matters into her own hands, he licked his way across her lower lip. She tasted of red wine and heat. Just to be sure, he repeated the action along her cupid’s bow then blew a soft breath over her now wet lips. The sensation must have been pleasant because it caused Scully to bite on her lower lip in a familiar gesture that, as she was about to discover, Mulder liked very much. He pushed his mouth against hers, hard, and sucked at her lower lip until she released it to him with a hiss of arousal. One of her hands curled around his side to hold him close, the other she placed on his thigh to maintain her balance.

Mulder’s fingers began to tangle in Scully’s short, silky hair. His other hand still cradled her face; he stroked along her cheekbone with one long thumb. His lips increased the pressure on her mouth until she opened to him. A more diligent investigator might have noted the taste of sweet marshmallow, but Mulder was beyond thought now. His world was suddenly awash with swirling sensations. Scully’s hand on his leg burned hot through his cotton pyjamas. He felt her breath mingle with his and let the kiss pull him deeper and deeper.

Scully, too, was overwhelmed by waves of emotion, so she let herself sink into the twin pleasures of Mulder’s fingers tugging at her hair and his mouth on hers, hot and hungry and perfect. God, so perfect! She let her head fall to the back of the couch to support her weight and took Mulder with her. He hooked his left arm along the top of the couch to pull himself closer and his right hand fell to Scully’s hip. He found the edge of her top and slid his hand up under the cool material until he encountered the warm skin at her waist, content for the moment to rest his palm at the small of her back and kiss, and kiss, and kiss.

\--

It was some minutes before Scully noticed that the candle had blown out. When they had finally broken the kiss, Mulder had lowered his face to nestle into her shoulder, lips parted against her neck, and they had rested in that pose for a moment, eyes closed, breathing together. When the awkward angle forced Mulder to move his hand from behind her back, she caught it up in her own and held it close to her racing heart. Mulder laughed softly, pressed her hand to his lips and then to his chest, so she could feel his own pulse thundering in response. Scully finally opened her eyes to find Mulder’s throat, where she pressed quick little kisses on his heated skin. Eventually, she took her hand back and reached for her wine glass, huffing out a long breath before taking a drink. It was as she reached down to pick up Mulder’s beer bottle, lying on its side, forgotten, that she noticed the lack of candlelight. She passed the bottle back to him as she stood, avoiding the small puddle of beer on the carpet, and walking over to the candle. As before, the interior of the glass was blackened with soot, as if the flame had been sputtering for some time. Mulder watched her with mild interest as he drank down the remains of his beer, and went to find a cloth to mop up the spill.

“I’m glad it was my beer we knocked over and not your red wine,” he said as he finished sopping up the little puddle. “We’d have had to blame it on the ghost, which would have made the staff wonder what I’d done to warrant a haunting.”

“Housekeeping is already busy wondering why no one slept in the bed last night,” quipped Scully. “Mulder, I washed the soot off this glass before I put the new candle in it.” She handed him the glass so he could see the thick black layer that now coated the inside. “It looks like the heat exploded out from the wick, judging by the pattern the carbon makes,” she said.

“Honestly, Scully? Bridget Bishop could have flown in on a broomstick and I wouldn’t have noticed,” Mulder admitted.

Scully laughed and nodded in agreement. They weren’t talking about the rapid developments in their relationship, but they weren’t pretending that it wasn’t happening either. It seemed to be a rather successful approach and one which they hadn’t tried before. It felt really natural.

“I’ll wash it and we can relight it and see what happens,” said Mulder as he headed to the bathroom to rinse out the washcloth and the glass. He returned several minutes later with the glass in hand.

“Scully, some of this carbon seems to have fused with the glass. Whatever happened, it was pretty powerful.”

“I’ll say!” Scully grinned up at him, wilfully choosing to misunderstand him. He beamed back at her, relieved that she seemed to be as happy as he was with where they were headed.

“A small candle like this just shouldn’t be producing this quantity of soot. The wick isn’t too long, and it isn’t in a draught.” Scully returned her focus to the glass. “Soot can etch the surface of a glass candle holder if it’s left to sit for any length of time, but it shouldn’t happen that quickly.”

“Maybe we lost time? I may have blacked out for a minute there at the end,” mused Mulder. Scully could never tell if he was entirely joking about lost time, but she could definitely confirm the mind-blowing nature of their kiss.

“Lack of oxygen will do that,” she said. “Remember to breathe next time.”

“Next time?” he repeated. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that, Scully.” Mulder’s tone was light, but he looked relieved. Scully noticed. She stepped closer grabbed the front of his shirt, guiding him down to where she could reach his lips. Her other hand landed flush on his chest.

“In case you’re in any doubt…” she whispered against his lips before pressing her mouth to his in a kiss that was brief, but passionate.

Mulder pulled her back to him as she broke their contact and pressed another kiss to her soft lips before releasing her. “I’m glad we cleared that up.”

“So am I,” she replied gently. “I don’t want you to think for one second that I don’t want this, Mulder.”

“This?”

“Us.”

“Oh, that! Right.” He grinned.

Scully took the glass back from him and replaced the candle. “It’s our last night here and I know we should be ghost watching, but I’m tired.”

“Bridget knows where to find us if she wants us, Scully.”

“I think this couch is a pull-out, Mulder, at least you could stretch out properly if we make it up.”

“You know where else would be comfortable, Scully? That nice, big bed in the room next door.”

Scully hesitated. Mulder put his hands to her shoulders. “Come on, we can put the candle on the dresser in there and watch it just the same. We can leave the door open so Bridget knows to come in.” He could see she was tempted. “I can even put on that sweater you like so much…” Scully thumped him lightly on the chest with an open hand.

“Don’t tease me!” she ordered.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied. He moved both hands up to tuck Scully’s hair back behind her ears, weaving his fingers into the silky strands. “Listen, Scully, just because things have started to change for us doesn’t mean everything has to change. We’ve shared a bed before. You trust me, right?”

“You know I do. It’s just that we don’t have an answer on this case, and I feel like I’ve been playing house instead of working!”

“Say the word, Scully. If you can suggest anything else we can do tonight to solve this case I will put on some pants and go do it!”

Scully laughed. “Ok, no, I can’t think of anything useful we can do right now. You may remain pant-less.” They both grinned at that.

“Okay, so let’s get some sleep then, Agent. We can start fresh tomorrow.” Mulder released Scully and smoothed down her hair back into a neat bob. He turned and went through to the bathroom to prepare for bed. When he finished, he found Scully sitting on the side of the bed waiting for her turn. Her legs dangled far above the floor, which Mulder found endearing, although he valued his life too much to tell her that, so he just smiled. She smiled right back at him and went into the bathroom. When she returned Mulder was in bed and the candle was glowing merrily in the glass on the dresser. Scully looked at her partner, thought for a moment, and walked over to blow out the candle.

“We’ve had enough excitement for one night. We don’t need to burn the hotel down because a ghost wants to attract our attention. If Bridget wants to wake us up she can use the electric lights.” As if to illustrate her point, Scully flicked off the overhead light, leaving the room in near darkness. She made her way over to the bed and climbed in.

“Oh, this is a comfortable bed,” she sighed.

“M-hm. I’ve set an alarm. I don’t fancy a wake-up call from Skinner if we oversleep.”

“Good point.” Scully yawned loudly and Mulder laughed.

“Good night, Scully. Sweet dreams,” he said. He rolled towards her and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. He started to move back to his side of the bed but she stopped him with a small hand on his sculpted chest.

“Good night.” She kissed him back, on the lips. He smiled against her mouth. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it. That Mulder was happy pleased her. He eased back onto his side of the mattress, keeping her hand in place on his chest. Scully rolled onto her side to face him, shifting her head onto his pillow.

“Don’t hog the blankets, Mulder,”

“As if I would!” he whispered. “What’s mine is yours, Scully. Always.” Her gentle breathing soon evened out in sleep. Mulder lay awake for a long time, Scully’s hand still clasped in his. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this good; he would have sweet dreams indeed.


	7. Chapter 7

ROOM 612

THURSDAY 13 JANUARY

6:20 AM

“Mulder, what are you doing?” Scully woke up with her head still close to Mulder’s on his pillow. Her pillow was clasped to Mulder’s chest and he was staring up at the ceiling. He startled when she spoke.

“I woke up a while ago and you were right there, and I just wanted to hold you but you were asleep, so I needed to give my hands something to do.” He shrugged, aware that yet again his behaviour might seem weird to his poised partner.

“Mulder,” Scully spoke softly into his ear, her voice still thick with sleep. “I’m not asleep now…”

In one fluid movement, Mulder threw Scully’s pillow to the floor and rolled to face her, scooping up her small body into a hug. She squealed and squirmed briefly until she freed her arms to return his embrace, then settled back next to him on the pillow.

“Good morning,” he said, hazel eyes staring into sleepy blue ones, only inches away.

“Mm, good morning” she murmured, running one hand lightly up and down his back. “Next time you need a cuddle, Mulder, just wake me up.” Had Scully been more alert, she might have noticed her partner’s eyes glisten with emotion at her casual offer: no one had ever cared for him so honestly or completely. He was in awe of this woman’s capacity to love him. Also, there was that ‘next time’ again. Scully was making it pretty clear that these weren’t one-off interactions as far as she was concerned.

Mulder nuzzled into Scully’s neck, deliberately scraping his overnight beard along her jawline, making her shiver at the sensation. Scully’s rhythmic caresses down Mulder’s spine had almost lulled him back to sleep when the alarm rang. He groaned, planted an open-mouthed kiss on her elegant throat and rolled out of her embrace to find and silence the phone.

He was subtly trying to recreate their original positions in the hope that Scully would resume petting him like a cat when he glanced up at the dresser.

“Uh, Scully?”

“Hmm?”

“The candle is lit.”

Scully’s languid mood evaporated as she sat up to look at the candle in the old glass. The flame was somewhat subdued as the morning sun slowly brightened the room, but it was definitely alight. There was a light layer of soot on the inside of the glass, but not enough to obscure the flame from view and nothing like the coating that had been present last night.

“Did you wake during the night, Scully?”

“No, I barely even moved. My head was still on your pillow. You?”

“No. Someone had her head on my pillow so I had nowhere I could move to!” He grinned up at Scully playfully. It was apparent that her hogging the bed was perfectly fine in Mulder’s book. “It took me a while to go to sleep but I just lay here holding your hand and thinking what I lucky bastard I am.” That earned him a kiss on his temple. “This morning I was awake for maybe 15 minutes before you woke up.” He stretched out one long arm to pick up the pillow off the floor and tuck it behind Scully. She leaned back against it. Mulder, head still on his pillow, threw his arm across Scully’s lap and squeezed her hip, resting his long fingers on the enticing swell of her ass. She indulged him for a moment then linked her fingers in his and brought both their hands up to rest on her silk-covered belly.

“You’re distracting,” she chided him, with absolutely no recrimination in her tone.

“But I need a cuddle.”

Scully’s eyeroll could have been seen from outer space; nevertheless, she scooted back down in the bed. “Roll over!” she instructed. Mulder dutifully rolled to face away from her, and Scully tucked herself in behind him and wrapped her arm around his torso. She rested her chin on Mulder’s neck and then continued their conversation as if this was the way they woke up every morning.

“So, what does this do to our theory that the ‘ghost’ action in this room is in response to extreme emotion? I mean, last night, yes, sure. That fits. But if we were both asleep, why did the candle light again?”

“Bridget likes us and wanted to set the mood?” Mulder suggested. Scully slapped his chest in remonstrance, then made up for it by pressing a kiss to his jaw, just below his ear. Mulder let out an amused breath.

“I don’t know Scully. I still think it must be related to energy fluctuations. Maybe it’s not as localised as we think. Maybe the couple in 610 was having make-up sex?”

“You have a one-track mind, Agent Mulder. As far as we know, prior to last night none of the incidents has been associated with the amorous activity.”

“Are you prepared to go down to reception and tell them our make-out session was so hot that the ghost made a candle explode to rebalance the energy in the room?” he prompted.

“Point taken. So, there may be unreported incidents, unrelated to couples arguing. I still don’t know what more we can do. I am _not_ explaining to Skinner that we’ve changed our hypothesis based on one phenomenal kiss and a bit of cuddling.”

“You definitely can’t tell him that. You’ll break his heart, Scully.” That remark rightly earned him a nip on the earlobe. He rolled over and pulled Scully into a tight hug, throwing his leg across her lower body to completely envelop her in his embrace. He anticipated a joking rebuke and was ready to release her. Instead, Scully looked into his eyes for a long moment. He felt a palpable shift in the energy around them and was dimly aware of a flare of light before her lips pressed warmly against his and then opened invitingly.

By the time he was again capable of conscious thought, the candle had been extinguished, with a lazy trail of smoke the only sign that it had been alight. Scully, who had ended the kiss by casually flipping a surprised Mulder onto his back, before climbing off him and out his side of the bed, saw the smoke and laughed as she made her way to the bathroom to prepare for the day ahead.


	8. Chapter 8

SALEM COMMON

8:15 AM

Scully was reasonably confident she could have convinced Mulder to make the check-in call to AD Skinner but decided that her newly acquired negotiating skills should be used sparingly. The thought made her smile. She placed the call while sitting on a wooden bench in the weak sunshine on Salem Common. Mulder had gone to collect coffee for them both to ward off the January chill. The weather this week had been warmer and drier than typical for this time of year, but as Scully sat in the park, she could feel the temperature dropping. They had packed their DC coats and gloves, so she was warm enough, but would be happy to get moving once Mulder returned.

“Agent Scully?” her boss’s voice focussed her attention, as it was wont to do. She really wasn’t sure how this conversation was going to go.

“Good Morning, Sir. Agent Mulder said you requested we make contact again this morning.”

“Yes, Agent. I hope you’re about to tell me that you’re ready to close the file.”

“I believe we have made progress, Sir, but Agent Mulder and I are at somewhat of a loss as to how suggesting the source of the events at the Hawthorne is going to satisfy Mr Hargrave. I’m not sure that advising an exorcism is the result he was after.”

“Agent Scully, you’re starting to sound like Mulder, and you know how that worries me!”

“Sir, the scientific explanation for what I’ve seen is even less useful if Mr Hargrave wants this problem to simply go away.”

“Agent, _I_ want this problem to go away. Hargrave’s buddies are driving me mad and they’re too far up the food chain for me to simply ignore. You and Agent Mulder had better put your heads together and come up with something to make this go away! Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Skinner ended the call and Mulder, who had been standing nearby and listening for the last part of the conversation, handed Scully her coffee. He had a bag of muffins that he put between them on the bench as he sat beside her.

“Skinner sounded cranky, Scully. That’s not the effect you usually have on him. Did you decide after all to tell him you kissed me?” That earned Mulder eye roll number two for the morning. As a peace offering, he opened the bakery bag and offered Scully a warm, fragrant blueberry muffin. She murmured her thanks around her first bite. Once Mulder had his food in hand Scully stood and pocketed the empty bag.

“Let’s walk. It’s too cold to sit here.” Mulder rose with her and they walked along the path that followed the fence line of the Common. They wandered to the central bandstand and climbed the stairs. Mulder took the opportunity to stand close behind Scully as she stood at the railing, looking back across the park at their hotel. She leaned back into him, which was all the invitation he needed to wrap her in a hug.

“You’re so warm,” she told him.

“I’ve hoped for a long time that one day I’d get to hold you like this. Not because you were sick, or injured, but because I wanted to and you let me,” he admitted candidly. Scully turned in his arms so she could hug him back. Her voice was somewhat muffled as her face was pressed up against his thick coat. “Well, don’t try it back in DC when we’re working, but I want this too, Mulder.” She squeezed him tightly then dropped her arms and stepped back, suddenly all business again. She gathered up her coffee cup, and his, and strode down the steps to the nearest trash can, leaving Mulder to hustle after her once more.

“Skinner is expecting us to close this case ASAP. I indicated that the explanation of the problem and the solution to the problem were not necessarily linked. He was not thrilled. I don’t know where to go from here, Mulder. Do you?”

“I see two options,” Mulder replied. Scully looked at him with interest. “One: we borrow one of those ghost traps from The Gho…” Mulder stopped quickly when he saw the look on Scully’s face. “…or, two,” he carried on seamlessly, “we continue with our plan for today, keep talking to people and reassess where we are this evening. It may be that this file doesn’t get closed to the satisfaction of Skinner or Hargrave, Scully. It wouldn’t be the first time we explained a case without being able to alter the course of events. Skinner will just have to deal with it!”

Scully sighed, “ I know. I think I’m feeling guilty because I haven’t been as focussed on the work as I feel I should be.” Mulder knew the beaming smile on his face wasn’t the reassurance Scully was seeking, but he was unable to mask his delight at her admission.

“Dana Katherine Scully, you are the most professional person I’ve ever met. If there were a tangible lead, I know you would be forcing us to follow it. Face it, this is hardly a high stakes case. We were sent here on a goodwill mission. We’ll make sure that if Hargrave checks, there are people around town who will let it be known that we were asking questions. We’ll tell the hotel staff to stop sacrificing victims to the ghost of room 612, the rate of hauntings will slow, and all will be right with the world.” He finished with a charming smile that made Scully shake her head, knowing she would allow herself to be persuaded. He was right, but his willingness to accept the situation made her want to ask who he was and what he had done with her stubborn partner.

Mulder stepped into her personal space and bent his head close to hers, ready to clinch the argument. “Scully, for once we’re on a case where there’s no conspiracy, the ghost is friendly, my bed is comfortable, and you’re in it! Let me have this one! Please?”

She sighed again. “Okay, we’ll call Skinner tonight. I’ll quote Einstein; you’ll talk about ghosts until he hangs up and we’ll terrorise the reservations staff into only renting rooms on the 6th floor to nice little old ladies.”

“And in the meantime, we can visit the Burying Point, and The House of Seven Gables and go find Christian in her little store.”

“Burying Point first? The House of Seven Gables won’t be open yet,” Scully suggested.

“As long as you aren’t too cold, Miss Scully,” Mulder replied.

She tucked her arm into his and pressed herself into his side. “I’m good,” she smiled up at him. He took his arm back to grasp the lapels of her coat and draw them together snuggly around her throat. He adjusted her scarf so that it covered the back of her neck more securely. Satisfied, he dropped a warm kiss on her cheek then clasped her hand and drew it back through his arm. They crossed back towards the Hawthorne Hotel and continued down the block before turning into Charter Street and walking to the cemetery entrance.

The Burying Point was a large flat area in the centre of town, shaded by mature trees. At the far end was a rather uninspiring pond, icy around the shallow, weedy edges. Stone burial markers and large, rectangular, table-top tombs lined the paths and dotted the open spaces. Snow lay in the shadows but the places where the sun reached were covered with flattened, brown grass. A large bronze marker opposite the gate showed the positions of the most historically significant graves. Scully automatically headed toward the sign, but Mulder kept hold of her hand and drew her back.

“Let’s just wander,” he suggested. “Who knows what we might discover?”

There were a few tourists looking around, most heading to read the sign and then make their way to their target. It was obvious where the ‘famous’ graves were located just from foot traffic. So naturally, Mulder led Scully off the path in the opposite direction to wander in the sunshine and look at the stone carvings on the headstones. Many were unreadable, all of them were old.

“Person who finds the oldest headstone wins, Scully!”

“What do I win?” she asked. Mulder quirked his head to one side and gave her a look that made her feel hot all over. He laughed at her flustered expression and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “Your wish is my command, Ms Scully,” he said, in a low growl that only added to the heat that sparked between them. He let her go and wandered off to read the ornate headstones in a quiet corner of the cemetery. They were in the section behind the Grimshawe House, a handsome but decaying wooden home that once housed Nathaniel Hawthorne’s sister-in-law. Vines of ivy trailed across the rear of the house. On this side of the fence, headstones were haphazardly standing in the winter-dead grass, some with snow still piled around the base. Attention was required to avoid tripping. Scully soon noticed that the oldest grave markers had Death Heads as their detail, while the 19th-century graves were more commonly decorated with stone cherubs. She narrowed down her search to the graves sporting skulls.

“1688 is the oldest I’ve seen so far,” announced Scully as they moved on to a section further away from the entrance.

“You can do better,” said Mulder, pleased to note that Scully seemed eager to win their little contest: he wondered what she was imagining the prize might be. Clearly, she thought it would be worth her while! He was happily looking around and reading the stones that caught his interest.

They found the grave of Giles Corey’s first wife (1694) and Scully noted another older stone from 1683. She was feeling smug until Mulder spotted the 1673 date on a nearby grave. She continued to look as they made their way to the area that was popular with the tourists. There they found another collection of Death’s Head tombstones and Scully looked around, hopeful that she could beat Mulder’s find. She was interrupted by Mulder calling her over to look at a well-preserved headstone.

“Scully, I remember this name. This is the boy that Bridget Bishop was accused of cursing. He was 17 when he died in 1695 so that would have made him 14 when Bridget was hanged. The Shattocks were her neighbours. I think they were the ones who produced the poppet as evidence of her use of witchcraft. In reality, many houses from that time had a poppet tucked into the foundations as a protective charm.”

“They twisted the evidence to suit themselves,” said Scully, adding, “So this graveyard is full of the accusers, but the victims lie unmarked?”

“Yes. And you’re really not going to like this next one,” Mulder replied. He gestured to the headstone of Judge Hathorne, heavily weathered, and repaired with a thick stone border. “It’s the original hanging judge! People claim to have photographs of his ghost in front of his gravestone.”

She rolled her eyes. “People claim a lot of things, Mulder.”

Mulder chuckled before intoning solemnly, “Judge Hathorne did not like young women who rolled their eyes, Scully.”

“Well, I don’t like him either, so we’re even. To be considered the cruellest of those involved and to survive another…” she glanced at his headstone, “…25 years, and never repent his actions doesn’t speak well of this man’s character.” She shivered and stepped away from the grave. “It’s getting colder, Mulder. Is it time for the House of Seven Gables to be open yet? I’ve had enough of Judge Hathorne.”

Mulder glanced at his watch. “If we go back to the hotel and have another coffee to warm up before we get the car, we should be there right on opening. I’m afraid you won’t be free of the venerable judge though, Scully. Nathaniel Hawthorne’s antagonist in his Seven Gables novel was clearly based on his great grandfather here. He does not fare well in the tale either.” Mulder continued to share as they started their return journey to the hotel. He walked with his arm wrapped around Scully, his hand firmly planted on her hip. “Hathorne most likely visited the house; it was built by one of his fellow wharf owners. They may well have had shared business interests. You could see the wharves from the garden at Seven Gables, although by Hawthorne’s time they were mostly in disrepair and unused.”


	9. Chapter 9

THE HAWTHORNE HOTEL

9:30 AM

The temperature was significantly lower than it had been at breakfast time. The agents hurried back to the hotel and were pleased to find a free table in the tavern right by the fireplace. Mulder helped Scully with her coat and left her warming herself by the blaze as he went to hang their coats and order coffees. As he returned, he watched her from across the room. Her hair was glowing in the reflected firelight and her cheeks were bright from exercise and fresh air. He made his way over and sat next to her, ostensibly to benefit from the flames, but in reality, so he could sit with his hand discretely on her knee. She smiled at him and placed her warmed hand over his for a moment.

“So, I found the oldest gravestone, Scully. I guess that means that you owe me a prize.” Mulder’s smile was dangerous, but Scully was undaunted.

“I’ll have to think about an appropriate reward then, won’t I?” she replied, sliding her hand up inside the sleeve of his jacket and caressing his wrist.

They leapt apart when the fire behind them flared suddenly, causing a shower of sparks to disappear up the chimney; loud pops and crackling sounds had the other patrons turning to look in their direction. The waiter who appeared with their coffee served them, gave the fireplace a critical look, and went around behind them to poke at it suspiciously. Eventually, he seemed satisfied that there would be no further disruptions and left them to their drinks. 

“Have you read much of Hawthorne’s work, Mulder?”

“In college. You?”

“Just ‘The Scarlet Letter’. I didn’t like it much. I suspect I was pretty judgemental about Hester Prynne. I don’t think you really understand much about human weakness and want as a teenager.”

“But you do now?” Mulder prompted her to continue. He was always hungry for any personal revelations Scully was willing to share with him.

“I’m definitely more aware that humans are flawed, and that we make mistakes even when we have the best of intentions; even more so when desire is involved. Now I try not to assume things about people without knowing their story.” She paused, then looked back to her partner. “I’ve learned that from you, Mulder. You’re one of the least judgemental people I know. That’s part of what makes you a great investigator; people warm to you because you accept them as they are. Even if who they are is an alien, or fluke man, or a ghost,” she finished with a smile, lightening the mood.

“Not zombies though, Scully. I hate zombies!” he joked. Scully leaned over to him and placed her hand on the shoulder where he had been injured. She ran her hand down his arm, a slow caress that heated Mulder all the way to his toes. When she reached his hand he grabbed hers and held on.

“I bet you’d find the better nature of zombies too, given the right circumstances,” Scully mused.

“I can’t imagine those particular circumstances, but should they arise, I’ll do my best to see their gentler side,” he promised. He squeezed her hand and released it. “Shall I get our coats?”

“Thank you.”

“Are you excited to finally meet your Bewitched bedwarmer?” Mulder asked.

“The bedwarmer I had last night seems fit for purpose. I may just keep him,” she answered as he walked away. He shot her a pleased grin as he strode off to collect their coats.

\--

THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES

DERBY STREET, SALEM

10:30 AM

The House of Seven Gables sits on the waterfront in a complex of historic buildings. Scully was immediately attracted to the harbour views when they parked the car and walked down to the house’s entrance. She led Mulder past the front gate and right to the water’s edge. They stood there enjoying the cold air and smell of the ocean.

“Navy brat!” he taunted playfully. Scully beamed at him. He wished every case they had could make her this happy. He only needed her by his side to feel content, but the desire to do anything he could to make her smile was becoming overwhelming. “Want me to go commandeer a sailboat?”

“Could you?” she replied. “Although we’ll need better jackets-it’s cold out there today.”

“It’s cold here on shore today! Can we go inside please, Admiral?”

“Oh, very well. Just can’t wait to see that bedwarmer, huh?”

“Yep, I can’t wait to see if it smacks you on the ass like it does to Samantha in Bewitched.” He accompanied his words with a quick tap on Scully’s rear. She was so surprised her head swung round to look at him, wide-eyed, and for a brief moment, Mulder thought he was in real trouble. Then she gave him an evil grin that seemed to suggest he would pay for that later in ways he would appreciate. Even so, Mulder kept his hands firmly in his pockets as they walked back towards the house, admiring the grey wooden exterior with all its gables. The gardens looked inviting, even on this cold, dull morning.

“The house in Hawthorne’s time only had 3 gables. The woman who bought the house and began preserving it in the 1920s had the missing gables reinstated. She also had the secret staircase from the story built.” Mulder had been doing some online reading, it seemed.

“I love these New England buildings,” said Scully. “Would Salem be small-town America enough for you, Mulder?”

“I think I’d prefer somewhere a bit more rural, but it is pretty here by the ocean. I like all the local legends and it’s nice for once not being the only person in town who believes in ghosts,” he confessed. They reached the house entrance and paid the admittance fee. They were left to wait for the first tour of the day in a small side room fitted with bench seating around the walls. The other couples in the room smiled politely as they sat down. Four of the other visitors were either travelling together or had struck up a conversation as they waited.

“I read the book and Hawthorne was pretty rough on his great-great-grandfather. No love lost there!”

“Yes, he’s definitely on the witches’ side in The Scarlet Letter.”

“Except there’s no such thing as witches.”

Scully and Mulder exchanged an amused glance as they listened to the others chat.

“You know this house is haunted, right?”

“By a witch?”

“No, by a small boy, apparently.”

“Well, that’s odd. There’s been no young boy living here in hundreds of years according to what I’ve read.”

“He’s a very old little boy!”

“It’s in their interest to encourage ghost stories. Brings in more visitors. Like the Hawthorne Hotel. It’s supposed to be haunted, but I bet that’s all just tourist hype!”

The speculation was interrupted by the entrance of their guide. A woman dressed in the garb of the late 1700s greeted them warmly and explained the structure of their visit. She led them into the first room and began her spiel. Mulder and Scully found her stories interesting and enjoyed seeing each room as they passed through. Mulder smirked when they spied the bedwarmer and couldn’t resist sliding his hand just a bit lower than his usual spot on Scully’s back. To his great surprise and delight, she pressed back firmly into his touch. He found the rest of the downstairs tour somewhat difficult to recall from that point, his mind being elsewhere engaged. It wasn’t until they reached the bedroom known as Phoebe’s room, with its beautiful ocean views, that he started paying attention to anything other than the feeling of Scully’s perfectly formed ass cradled in his big hand. Tellingly, it was a bed that captured his attention. It was a four-poster, but instead of heavy curtains, it was covered with a delicate white, lace canopy that swooped down to frame the bed in a fairy-like bower. Mulder was reminded of Scully’s words in the Witch House.

‘Hey, Scully,’ he murmured, “This would be a good compromise-your dream bed but with unrestricted sightlines for taking out monsters and anything that goes bump in the night.” Scully looked at the bed and then gazed at Mulder speculatively as if she were measuring him up to see if he would fit. He found his cheeks were warm and feared he was blushing. He could only hope he had passed muster. The smile Scully gave him when she met his eyes suggested that had met with her approval.

Their tour ended with a visit to the attic and, finally, access to the secret staircase. The attic was fascinating in the way it showcased the changes to the house, with the exposed beams revealing the additions and revisions in every cut and patch. Mulder’s vivid imagination conjured up each iteration of the house and peopled it with its ever-changing cast of characters, both fictional and real. As they waited their turn to descend the staircase, full of tight corners and barely wide enough to allow for Mulder’s shoulders, he mused aloud.

“Judge Hathorne may well have visited the Turners when this place was first built. He shared a number of business interests with John Turner. For Nathaniel Hawthorne to then make this place the scene of his fictional character’s supernatural demise…that’s wild, Scully! He must have really hated the old man.”

“It seems there wasn’t much to like. Sentencing a woman to death because she dared to defend herself against accusations that were complete BS? What a hero!”

“You’re really not a fan, are you? Sharing a room with Bridget Bishop has won you over to her side of the argument.”

“Better Bridget’s ghost than Hathorne’s. Imagine sharing the afterlife with him. No wonder his ghost hangs out by his grave. He has nowhere else to go!”

“I know you’re just indulging me, Scully, but is it so hard to believe that the energy that was Judge Hathorne in life should continue after his death in some form that is anchored to the places he knew and frequented? That energy had to go somewhere; maybe he’s hanging around the Bewitched mural where his mansion used to be!”

“I hope when I’m gone I’ll have something better to do than haunt my apartment!” said Scully. 

“You forget-you’re immortal,” he reminded her.

Scully, on a step behind her partner, leant forward so her lips were level with his ear. “Not without you, Mulder. Where would the fun be in that?”

Mulder’s reply was so quiet, she wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it, but in the echo of the brick stairwell she caught each word: “Just don’t go before me!” Scully’s heart caught when she heard the fear in his words. She was aware of how lost Mulder had been when she was dying of cancer and she herself had had too much time in Africa imagining life without him. She waited until they were back in the garden after purchasing a copy of ‘The House of Seven Gables’ from the gift shop on their way out. She led him along one of the meandering brick paths that led towards the sea and away from the cluster of buildings and the tourists. When they were finally surrounded by the evergreen shrubs and trees that were hardy enough to survive a New England winter, she surprised Mulder by stopping in a quiet spot and gathering him to her. She held him close by the lapels of his coat, lifting onto her toes and tilting her head up in an invitation that Mulder would never learn to resist. He was drawn inexorably to her soft mouth as it waited for his touch. When they parted, he looked into her eyes to try and read the meaning of their tender exchange.

Scully wanted him to be in no doubt. “Mulder, I don’t know what the future holds, but the only version of it I want to imagine has you and me together in it. I hope that’s what you want too.”

“Scully, you’re the _only_ thing I want.” Mulder put his hands over hers where they rested against his collar. “Hey, you’re cold! Let’s get you somewhere warm! Shall we go and visit Christian’s store?” Scully nodded her agreement.


	10. Chapter 10

CHRISTIAN MASON’S STORE

BRIDGE STREET, SALEM

11:50 AM

They returned quickly to their parked rental and Mulder turned them back towards the main road to Danvers. He had looked up the directions earlier, knowing Scully was keen to make the visit; Christian’s store was in a strip mall about 10 minutes north of The Gables. It was an attractive wooden building with a florist, bookstore and traditional gift shop, with Christian’s business at the far end of the row.

Her store was painted in a soft grey wash, with warm, muted lighting to compliment the natural light that poured through the tall front windows. Burning candles dotted the room and essential oils burned in pretty ceramic holders to perfume the air with a subtle fragrance that reminded Scully of the sea. Shells and feathers were scattered on the shelves between packets of herbs, bottles of tonic and bars of soap embedded with flower petals. Scully felt serene as she stood in the centre of the room and looked at the displays. Mulder stood beside her as they waited for Christian to finish serving a customer. She smiled over at them as she wrapped the woman’s purchase and accepted payment. The women exchanged farewells and then Christian moved towards the centre of the room to join Scully and Mulder.

“I’m glad you were able to come to visit me,” she said. “Have you been to Seven Gables?”

“Yes, we’ve just come from there. It’s an interesting house and the gardens are beautiful, even at this time of year. I’d love to see them full of flowers in the summer,” Scully replied.

“They are lovely then. You’ll just have to come back when you aren’t working,” suggested Christian. Scully nodded. Mulder had wandered off to pick up and poke at all the potions, lotions and powders arrayed around the room. Christian gave Scully a mischievous smile and went to join Mulder. “This massage oil is wonderful, Agent Mulder-very good for calming the body and the mind. It’s a lavender base so a drop or two on your pillow at night encourages sleep. Or having someone massage it into your skin works too.” She picked up another nearby bottle and returned to Scully. She spoke softly this time.

“You might enjoy this one, Agent Scully. It has sandalwood and rose oil. A few drops in your bath will leave you feeling open and receptive. It’s also good for massages; very sensual in the right context.” She paused. “I have something out in the back for you. I’ll just be a moment. Agent Mulder, could you come and help Dr Scully try this oil?” As she spoke, Christian opened the small bottle and used the dropper in the lid to place a few drops on the back of Scully’s left hand, then handed her the bottle to hold.

Mulder walked over to them and Christian placed Scully’s hand palm down in his and gestured to the oil. Mulder immediately began to spread the oil over the back of Scully’s hand and up her wrist as far as he could reach under her coat sleeve. He massaged the oil in gently before taking each of her fingers in his slick grip, spreading the fragrant liquid firmly along each slender digit. He maintained eye contact with Scully as he touched her, sending heat to her cheeks and igniting a fire low in her belly. Around them, the lit candles flickered and danced. When all of the oil had been absorbed into Scully’s skin, Mulder enmeshed their fingers briefly then took the bottle from her and walked over to the counter to place it by the register.

Christian had not yet returned, so Scully used the time to compose herself by browsing through the candles for sale, selecting a lightly scented vanilla candle with a spicy undertone. She joined Mulder at the counter just as Christian returned from the back room. She smiled approvingly at their selections and rang up their purchases. Scully paid the woman and they made their farewells. Christian followed them to the door and held Scully back a moment as Mulder exited. She pressed a small, cool object into Scully’s palm.

“A small gift. Wear it when you need a reminder.” She touched her hand to Scully’s elbow then retreated back towards the counter, noticing as she did so that all the lit candles in the store had been extinguished. She looked around curiously, wondering what had caused the blackout.

\--

Outside, Scully slipped Christian’s offering into her pocket and followed Mulder over to their car. He opened her door and then moved around the car to the driver’s side. Scully slid into her seat and while she waited for Mulder to enter the car, she retrieved the gift and looked at it for the first time. It was a tiny purple brooch in the shape of a potion bottle. The little label was marked with the word ‘Courage’.

Scully smiled and quickly pinned the charm under her coat lapel. Just as they were about to pull away from the kerb, Mulder’s phone rang. Assuming it was Skinner, he looked hopefully at Scully, willing her to volunteer to take the call. She shook her head emphatically so Mulder answered. It was their hotel. Mulder listened for a moment then moved the phone away from his mouth to ask, “They want to know if we want one room tonight, or two as per our original booking?”

Scully’s hand went to the little badge pinned beneath her collar. “One,” she confirmed. “One or two beds?” she asked Mulder in return.

“One double room is fine, thanks,” he told the clerk. “And if the room has a bath, that would be perfect,” he added, earning a smile from his partner. He hung up before adding slyly, “I don’t want your new oil to go to waste.”

“It won’t. I’m counting on you finishing that massage,” was her only reply. Christian’s little charm was working, it seemed.

“Let’s head back to the hotel,” suggested Mulder.

Scully laughed. “I didn’t mean right this minute! The room won’t even be ready until four o’clock.”

Mulder laughed too. “I know I have a one-track mind, Scully, but that’s not what I meant. I was thinking we could have lunch in the restaurant and then use their library for some research. There are a few things I want to check before we talk to Skinner tonight.”

“That sounds fine, Mulder,” she settled back in her seat, glad to have confirmed that they were both on the same page when it came to the sleeping arrangements for the rest of their stay. Scully was acutely aware that her focus was not entirely on this case, but each time she went to chide herself for her work ethic, she was at a loss as to what else they could be doing, so she was happy that her partner had some ideas. Mulder, glancing over at his quiet passenger, saw her worrying her bottom lip.

“What’s wrong, Scully?” he asked her after a few minutes. She looked back at him with a puzzled expression.

“You’re biting your lip, and not in the good way,” he explained.

“Mulder! Comments like that are not helping. I was thinking about how unprofessional I’ve been on this case.”

“Scully, we aren’t being unprofessional. It’s the lack of obsession that makes it feel that way. We’ve spent 6 years doing nothing but work. As you have pointed out so many times, that’s not healthy. I don’t want that anymore. Not for you, and not for me, either. We’re doing the work that this case warrants. When we pull one that requires 8-hour surveillance shifts in a dank warehouse, we’ll do that too. We’ve caught a break for once. Please try and enjoy it!”

“Mulder, that’s the most un-Mulder-like thing you have ever said!”

He grinned, “Get used to it Scully because I kinda like how it feels! It’s my New Year’s resolution.”

“Your New Year’s resolution is to be a slacker and a tease?” Scully countered.

“Yeah, how am I doing?”

“The slacker part may take some getting used to. The teasing I don’t mind so much.” She matched his smile with one of her own. Damn, she loved his cheeky face! He was right, and she was going to have to take to her own advice if she wanted something more than FBI commendations as markers of a life well-lived.

\--

THE TAVERN

1:00 PM

Back at the hotel, Mulder and Scully opted for lunch in the more casual atmosphere of the Tavern bar. The colder day seemed to have discouraged tourists from wandering in but persuaded hotel guests to dine in rather than brave the outdoors. So the restaurant and bar areas were both humming. The agents hung their coats and were seated along the back wall of the restaurant, midway between the fireplace and the plate glass windows that faced the street. The tables nearby were filled with people finishing off their midday meals.

“Drink?” Mulder asked.

“I think I’ll have some hot tea,” Scully decided.

“No day drinking with lunch? Who says you’re not a professional?”

“Probably Skinner if he were watching.”

“Scully, relax. We’ll eat then we’ll go down to the library and do some research. What’s more FBI than that? We’ll write up our report and recommendations then call Skinner. If it makes you feel better, we can take a personal day tomorrow and pay for the room ourselves for the last couple of nights. ” He reached for her hand across the table, only to pull away as they both felt a charge as their hands touched. “Whoa!”

Scully gave her hand a shake. “Static electricity. The cold, dry air makes it quite common.” She looked down at the flooring. “This wool carpet would have amplified the build-up of electric charge on our skin as we walked to the table. When you touched me, the charges were grounded and neutralised.”

Mulder reached out again and, somewhat more tentatively this time, placed his hand over Scully’s. “Didn’t work. I still feel electricity when I touch you!”

“You sap, Mulder,” she teased.

Mulder’s pep-talk and the mini science lesson lifted Scully’s mood. They opted to share a pizza and a garden salad, both instinctively knowing who would have the lion’s share of each. The salad arrived quickly, but instead of a pizza, their waiter appeared with an apology.

“Your pizza is on its way now. The strangest thing happened. We have a wood-fired pizza oven and just as we put yours in, there was this huge whoosh of flame up around the roof of the oven and then the fire went out. It’s never happened before. Chef’s just got the fire going again and your pizza was going in as I left. It should only be a few more minutes. Can we buy you both a drink by way of apology for the delay?”

Mulder looked across at Scully. “It seems we are destined for day drinking, Agent Scully!” His eyes sparkled at her in a friendly challenge. Scully put her hand to her mouth to try and hide her amusement. Mulder, naturally, took that as an endorsement and ordered beers for them both. The pizza arrived with their drinks, was declared to be delicious, and disappeared quickly along with the salad. They lingered at the table to finish their beers.

“What are we researching down in the library?”

“I want to look at anything about local history, family connections, anything that might encourage ghosts to stay in the area and be active enough to be perceived by the non-ghosts,” explained Mulder. Scully giggled at ‘non-ghosts’, which only encouraged his nonsense.

“You, Scully, can check out the books on herbs and traditional medicine and see if you can finally nail that toad juice potion for mean boys. Or, you know, start writing up our report… whatever.”

Scully’s eyeroll came with a big smile this time. “Well, the only mean boy around here is the hanging judge. If you can think of a way to get Hathorne to drink from my cauldron, I’m in! Otherwise, I guess the report will have to do.”


	11. Chapter 11

THE LIBRARY

2:00 PM

Drinks finished, Mulder grabbed his coat and ran out to the car to collect their briefcases. Scully visited the restroom then collected two cups of spiced cider from the table in the lobby. She waited by the stairs until Mulder returned and he led the way down into the large library. It was empty, so they chose a table way in the back, tucked into the corner nearest the bookshelves. Scully opened her briefcase to retrieve the file and her laptop. Before sitting, she removed her gun and holster and placed them into the briefcase. Mulder wandered over to the shelves to figure out how the books were catalogued.

“Their system of filing is worse than ours!” was his summary.

“We don’t need a filing system because every case there’s ever been is stored in your head,” Scully replied. She was reviewing the file before starting their report, so she missed the smile that her comment earned her.

Mulder spent the next 20 minutes ambling alongside the shelves, sipping his cider and grabbing books that he would periodically take over to the table and pile up on the side opposite to where Scully was working. Scully was resolute in her attention to the paperwork. She typed up their interviews and summarised the information they had discussed with Christian. She eventually decided to include the strange behaviour of the candle in room 612, including specific details of only two of the incidents (during her bath and while they were ‘watching television’). Mulder returned to his stack of books and flicked through several before casting them aside. When he found one that was of interest, he moved to the padded bench seat that ran along the wall behind Scully, kicked his shoes off and stretched out with his back to the wall. He read quietly while Scully checked her notes and typed.

“Hey, Scully?”

“Hm?”

“Some people say they can smell the scent of apples in the hotel and that it’s related to Bridget Bishop’s ghost because her orchard was on this land.”

“Mulder, there’s a vat of cider bubbling in the lobby. If I had to choose between that and the ghost as the source…”

“Never mind. Her orchard wasn’t here anyway. Her house and land were on Washington Street. There are a few other places mentioned in here that I’d like to look at too. Let’s take a walk.” He bent to replace his shoes.

“Mulder, I’m halfway through this report. I want to finish it so we can call Skinner.”

“But it will be dark if we wait. I’d like to get a sense of the distance between all of the places that were important to Bridget. Perhaps it will explain why she’s linked to this hotel.”

Scully sighed but was already saving her document and packing up her laptop. “It’s cold,” she complained.

“I’ll warm you up when we’re done,” Mulder bent his head to whisper into her ear as he came to stand by her side. “I have to finish your massage.” Mulder’s voice alone was enough to send heat coursing through Scully’s body. Her face flushed and the overhead lights buzzed and flickered. Mulder looked up at the nearest fixture. He frowned. Scully felt the loss of his focus and followed his gaze.

“What?” she asked.

“Probably nothing. Come on, let’s grab our coats and leave these cases with the concierge. By the time we get back our room should be ready.”

“Okay, hang on. I’ll need to put my holster back on. I can’t leave my gun in here if we’re leaving the cases at reception.” Scully unbuttoned her jacket and swept it to the side as she reattached her Sig-Sauer, in its holster, around her waist. Mulder watched her, his eyes taking in her narrow waist then roaming up and over her breasts to her face. She met his eyes with a steady, open look. She let her jacket fall back into place and closed the buttons, still maintaining eye contact with her partner. His eyes were dark, and he took a step closer to her, reaching out one hand and resting it on her hip.

“You’re so fierce, I forget how tiny you are,” he confessed in a hushed voice. Mulder dipped his head to Scully, and waited, allowing her to be the one to close the distance between them. She stepped into him so their bodies were lightly pressed together and one hand snaked up behind his neck to encourage him closer still. Her lips parted and he could feel her breath on his skin. They kissed.

With eyes closed, neither partner saw the lights in the room flare. It was only when the bulb to their left shattered that they leapt apart, looking wildly around the room. Seeing that they were still alone they moved carefully to the source of the noise. Glass sparkled on the carpet and an acrid smell lingered in the air. Mulder and Scully looked at each other, somewhat sheepishly.

“Mulder, what’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, Scully. I am starting to wonder if the ghost has something against us enjoying ourselves.”

“Mulder, that’s crazy!”

“Is it? I’m starting to see a pattern here. Whether you want to call it a ghost or use more scientific terms, we seem to be very close to starting a fire, Scully,” he tried not to smirk at her but didn’t quite succeed. Scully scowled at him briefly before a grin broke out to rival his.

“You’re ridiculous, Fox Mulder. Come on, let’s go look at these buildings. I think we need some fresh air!” She gathered her briefcase and headed for the stairs. Mulder followed suit. They deposited their cases with the woman at reception, casually mentioning that a bulb had blown in the library.

\--

SALEM TOWN CENTRE

2:30 PM

Crossing back to the coat rack outside the Tavern, they collected their coats and scarves. Mulder still had the book about haunted Salem in his hand. Once they were suitably wrapped up, Mulder referred to the book’s map and led them across the road and up the street. He stopped just a few minutes later outside a small, brick Catholic church.

“Wanna get hitched, Scully?”

“Maybe later,” she replied, unfazed. “Why are we here, Mulder?”

“There used to be an old wooden jail here. It was where Bridget Bishop was held between her trial and her execution.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I just wanted to be able to visualise it.” Mulder looked back at the book. “And from what I can tell, she must have just about been able to see her orchards and house from here. They were just down this way.” He indicated the way ahead and shyly took Scully’s hand. She shook her head in quiet amusement at this man who could blithely ask her to marry him but was nervous to initiate a bit of handholding.

There was a bank where Bishop’s house had stood, and a seafood restaurant where apple trees once grew.

“The house was demolished in the mid-1700s,” Mulder informed Scully.

“There’s really not much left from that time that belonged to any of the victims, is there?” Scully replied. “I guess it’s true that history belongs to the victors.”

“Yes, those in power decide what history gets told and which artefacts get preserved. It’s a little ironic that the main reason we know Bridget’s story at all is thanks to the writing of the great, great-grandson of the man who condemned her to death. The interest Nathaniel Hawthorne created in Hathorne has allowed people to discover the stories of the women he tried.”

“And if Bridget hadn’t been an eye-rolling, red-corset wearing rebel we probably wouldn’t know her name now.”

“I have a soft spot for eye-rolling rebels, in or out of corsets!” Mulder said.

“Good to know. Mine’s not red though, it’s black lace.” Scully kept a straight face as Mulder’s eyes widened at that little bit of information.

“Hathorne definitely would have had problems with you Scully. Which is merely proof that the man was clearly stupid as well as cruel!”

“Clearly!” She chuckled at Mulder’s adamant rejection of a man who had been dead for 300 years, just based on the suspicion that Hathorne wouldn’t have approved of her. “We should get moving. The bank staff probably think we’re out here planning a heist. And it’s freezing!”

“Back to the hotel then? Do you want to go out somewhere for dinner?”

“How do you feel about room service, Mulder? It seems like a good night to be tucked up indoors.”

Mulder nodded. “That sounds perfect, Scully.” She tucked her hand through Mulder’s arm and they walked briskly back along Washington Street till it crossed Essex, turning left to follow the sidewalk back to their hotel.

\--

THE HAWTHORNE HOTEL

3:30 PM

They were a little early, but the clerk behind the desk spotted them and called them over to say that their room was ready and their briefcases had already been sent up. They accepted the key gratefully and headed up in the lift. This room was on the sixth floor but in the back corner of the building.

“I think I can see the trees in the Burying Point from here,” said Mulder as he wandered around inspecting the room.

“Cheery thought,” retorted Scully. “Can I have the car key please?” she added.

“Where are you going?” Mulder asked.

“Nowhere. I left our things from Christian’s store in the car. And the book from Seven Gables. I was hoping we could dip into it tonight. I’m curious about how Hathorne is portrayed.”

“I’ll go. You stay here and warm up.” Mulder headed for the door and Scully retreated to the bedroom where she changed into her blue jumper and a thick pair of black leggings. She would ask to borrow some socks when Mulder returned. By the time he was back, she was comfortably seated on the floor in front of the television, flicking through the movies on offer in this room. She smiled up at him as he entered, shedding his coat and scarf.

“Find anything good?” he inquired.

“I did!”

“I’m just going to go change. You look so cosy there.” Mulder handed her the book and the package from Christian’s store. He stepped around her, resting one hand briefly on her shoulder before running it up into her hair. Scully tilted her head to nuzzle into his hand. Then he took his hand back and continued on to the bedroom. Scully opened the paper sack and removed the two bottles of oil and the vanilla candle. She left them on the table and went to sit on the couch with the book.

Mulder soon returned from the bedroom wearing his woollen jumper and a pair of sweatpants, carrying a pair of socks for Scully. “Can’t have those little feet getting cold,” he teased as he handed over the offering. They engulfed Scully’s feet and lower legs, looking more like legwarmers on her than sports socks. Mulder picked up the room service menu and then joined her on the couch. “Let’s choose and phone the order through now. Is six too early?”

“It’s fine. Are you hungry?”

“I will be by then.” He leered melodramatically at Scully and added, “And I want to get dinner out of the way so your massage isn’t interrupted by room service.”

Scully arched a brow at him, “I like the way you think, Mulder.” She grabbed the menu out of his hands and studied it briefly, selecting soup and a salad.

“Boring!” Mulder made the call to room service, adding his choices to Scully’s order. He threw the menu to one side and sank back on the couch. “Should we ring Skinner?” he asked.

“Yes, let’s get that out of the way too. Remember-Einstein, ghosts, minimisation strategy for the hotel staff to follow, and we’re out. If he asks, we were watching television when the candle blew the second time.”

“What were we watching? If he asks.”

“Anything except one of those videos that aren’t yours. He won’t ask. By the time you throw your ghost theory at him, he’ll be begging to hang up.”

The call to Skinner went according to plan. He listened carefully to Scully’s explanation of Einstein’s theory of the conservation of energy as it pertained to this case. He tolerated Mulder’s rambling recitation of the literature surrounding poltergeists and the increased activity recorded around significant dates and events such as the millennium. He did not ask about their movie night (he knew better) and accepted their assurances that by directing the hotel staff to change their room allocation policy all would be well and Skinner’s association with Hargrave would be at an end. He approved their personal leave, told them to report to his office with their completed report by 8 am Monday morning and wished them a ‘pleasant weekend’ with a smirk they could practically hear down the phone line. Scully put her face into her hands and blushed a fiery red. Mulder hung up the phone and laughed heartily, pulling Scully to his side and hugging her tightly.

“Scully, Skinner knew about us before we knew there was an ‘us’. He doesn’t care. In fact, I’m pretty certain the big, bald man is quietly happy for us. He may have had ‘January 2000’ in the office pool.”

“Oh, God!” she mumbled into his side. Mulder kissed the top of her head and picked up The House of Seven Gables. He manoeuvred them on the couch so he was reclining against the armrest, and Scully was tucked in next to him. He freed up one arm to open the book and began to read aloud. As he expected, Scully was soon yawning quietly and before long, her head drooped heavily onto the arm he had curled around her. Mulder smiled contentedly, dropped another kiss onto her head and continued to read to himself as the evening gathered in.

\--

Mulder woke Scully twenty minutes before their room service delivery was due.

“...so Judge Hathorne lived happily ever after because all the opinionated women of Salem were dead. The end.” Scully’s sharp little elbow in his ribs told him that she was awake and that he was not as funny as he thought he was. She jumped up to use the bathroom and wash her face before their meal arrived. While she was busy, Mulder lit the candle in the glass holder and the new one Scully had purchased that day. He turned off the overhead lights and switched on the lamps dotted about the room. Finally, he closed the curtains to keep out the cold and the dark. Scully returned to find a cosy and inviting space bathed in warm candlelight. Mulder had turned on the television and found a station playing a crackling fireplace screensaver. She smiled at the cheesy gesture, secretly pleased that Mulder wanted to make an effort for her.

A knock at the door heralded the arrival of their dinner. Mulder had quietly added a dark chocolate mousse to their order, and he set that aside before taking the tray of food to the coffee table. They sat on the floor in front of the table to eat. Without too much consultation they split the soup and fries. Mulder ate most of the burger but was delighted when Scully took an enormous bite when he offered it to her. She ate her salad and leant back against the couch contentedly while Mulder cleared away their plates and left the tray outside in the hallway.

As he returned to sit by Scully, he snagged the single dessert and a spoon from the side table where he had put them when he set out their meal. The creamy mousse was garnished with one perfect, luscious strawberry. Mulder lifted the fruit from the bowl and deliberately bit the end, exposing the glossy inner surface. He turned to Scully and lifted the strawberry to her mouth, glazing her lips with it before holding it steady so she could take a bite.

_‘Oh, Mulder likes food play!_ ’ she thought. _‘Good to know!’_ Scully held his gaze as he teased her with the sweet treat.   
The second that the strawberry disappeared between her teeth, Mulder discarded the stalk and swooped down to capture Scully’s mouth with his own, tasting the juice on her lips before she deepened the kiss and ran her graceful fingers through his thick hair; scratching her nails down the back of his neck until he groaned into her mouth.

Scully broke the kiss and reached for the spoon to scoop up a mouthful of the chocolatey cream. She offered it to Mulder, and he accepted enthusiastically. He licked the spoon clean and took it from her. Instead of using it to prepare a taste for Scully, Mulder placed the spoon on the table and ran his middle finger around the edge of the glass serving bowl. He held his finger out to Scully, who grasped his wrist and pulled his finger to her lips so she could suck the mousse into her mouth. She watched Mulder’s rapt face as she teased him, his eyes closed and his head thrown back. When she finally released him, he pulled Scully to him and nipped his way down her neck until her blissful expression rivalled his own. She slipped one hand underneath his sweater and began tracing patterns across his tight abdomen, feeling his muscles pulse under her touch.

When the phone rang, Mulder sighed and dropped his head onto Scully’s shoulder. She huffed out a breathy laugh and hugged him before standing and walking over to the phone. She listened quietly and then thanked the caller before hanging up.

“Someone left a note for us at reception,” she explained. Mulder was lying back against the couch and still breathing heavily. “I’ll go get it,” she smirked at him and quickly went to pull on her shoes. As she passed by him again on her way to the door he held out his hand and she paused to take it in her own. They shared a look that did nothing to lower Mulder’s heart rate or go any way to relieving the flush that painted Scully’s décolletage. Then Scully squeezed Mulder’s hand and released it, making her way to the door.

“Back soon,” she promised. A dopey smile spread over Mulder’s face as he lay back against the couch to wait for her return.


	12. Chapter 12

Scully hit the call button for the elevator but grew impatient when it did not immediately arrive. She decided to take the stairs down to the lobby to expedite the errand and release some of the pent-up energy their interrupted make-out session had generated. She took the five flights at a jog and was soon at reception, where she identified herself and asked for the note. It was a thick, creamy envelope addressed in a flowing hand: Agents Scully and Mulder.

Opening the envelope to check for a signature, she unfolded the heavy sheet of paper and looked to the bottom of the page. It was from Christian. Scully thanked the clerk and moved to the elevator, which stood open in the foyer. She stepped inside, pressed the button for the sixth floor and the doors slowly rumbled shut.

As the elevator started to climb, Scully opened the note to see what had caused Christian to leave them a message on this cold, dark night. Before she could begin to read, the lights in the car dimmed. No sooner had Scully looked to the roof of the carriage than the lights flared brightly enough to temporarily blind her. She raised her hand to her eyes, waiting for the uncomfortable sensation to pass. The elevator arrived on the sixth floor and the doors slid open. Scully removed her hand and sensed that the lights had returned to normal. Her vision had not. She quickly stepped out into the corridor and hurried back to their room. She had forgotten to take a key with her, so she knocked and waited for Mulder to answer. He quickly did and flashed her a welcoming smile. She brushed past him and waited till he had closed the door.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he took in her worried expression.

“The lights in the elevator went out and then nearly blinded me! I’m still seeing spots,” she explained. She held the note out to Mulder. “It’s from Christian, I started to read it then everything went dark-you read it.”

Mulder took the paper from her hand and wrapped her in a one-armed hug before leading her to the couch. They sat together and Mulder unfolded the note. He read it aloud.

> _‘Dear Agents,_
> 
> _My supervisor at The Witch House has been doing some research about the glasses that match the one you so kindly gave us to replace our broken one. It seems that they are from the estate of Nathaniel Hawthorne; there’s a photo in his house on Turner Street that shows part of the set in the background of a portrait of his children. She says the glasses are older than Hawthorne and that estate documents indicate that they may have been an inheritance: The age suggests they might have belonged to Judge Hathorne. As you can imagine, she is thrilled! I’d suggest a more cautious response: Have you considered that the strange behaviour of your candle might be a warning? After all, it doesn’t fit Bridget’s pattern of behaviour, but it might be something Judge Hathorne might do if he were angered by a woman showing him less deference than he considers his right. Please be careful while you have the glass and are staying in The Hawthorne. I’d hate to see that wonderful energy that exists between the two of you twisted into something dark!_
> 
> _With warmest regards,_
> 
> _Christian.’_

“Mulder…” Scully began, but unsure how to finish the sentence, fell quiet.

“It could explain the lights in the elevator, and the library this afternoon, and the candle during your bath and again last night and this morning,” Mulder suggested.

“It doesn’t ‘explain’ anything. Why would a 300-year-old ghost care who I kiss? It’s absurd!”

“Scully, we’ve seen stranger things. Yes, the link is tenuous, but it might be the commingling of a number of coincidental factors that have allowed the energy to be directed at you: the glasses you bought, us staying in a room where paranormal energies are already reported to be active, and the millennium celebrations that have seen attention focussed on Hathorne and his victims. The catalyst could well have been our emotional connection which has been…heightened this week.”

“So, I remind Hathorne of a woman who pissed him off in 1692 and he seeks his revenge by, what, trying to ruin my sex life? Does that not sound far-fetched to you, Mulder? At all?” Scully’s voice pitched higher as her nervous energy filled the room. Mulder’s frustrations from the previous day flooded back.

“Damn it, Scully! We’ve seen this before! Howard Graves? You must remember. Dorland’s office; I know you were outside, but you saw the mess, the lights exploding…and remember the glowing lights on our rental car? It seems to me that if an entity made entirely of energy wanted to affect the physical world, light and heat are two fairly simple sources to tap into and manipulate. Einstein seemed to grasp the concept!” Mulder paced the floor as he tried to convince Scully. His anger masked the fear he had suddenly felt when he realised it might be Scully who was the target of the paranormal phenomena.

“Jesus, Mulder, why are you yelling at me? How is this my fault? How did we get here, from there?” She gestured to the spot on the floor where they had sat kissing just 20 minutes earlier. She looked around the room for something, anything, to do rather than to continue the pointless argument with her stubborn partner.

She grabbed for the remote control and flicked off the television. Then she stomped over to the candle she had purchased from Christian’s store and blew it out with a force that sprayed wax across the table on which it sat. She repeated the action with the small pillar candle that burned inside the glass holder. She turned and went to pass Mulder on her way to the bedroom, whether to sulk or pack, she hadn’t yet decided.

As she passed him by, he took her by the arm.

“Mulder.” Her voice was low and full of simmering warning.

“Just look!” he spun her around by her shoulders. The candle in the glass holder was burning brightly again. The air began to crackle with static electricity. Scully thought she could see tiny blue flares spark in the dark corners of the room. Mulder’s grip on her shoulders became vice-like.

“You need to get out of here,” he ordered.

“You need to let me go!” was her angry retort. He complied; his expression a mix of worry and irritation.

Scully’s focus was on the room, rather than Mulder. She may not believe in ghosts but the evidence before her was compelling enough-all of her senses were registering the ozone-like tang in the air. The atmosphere felt malevolent. She made one further attempt to extinguish the blazing candle. This time as she approached it, the bulb in the lamp by the door suddenly shattered, spraying tiny, sharp particles of hot glass onto the carpet. Scully sprang back and again Mulder was compelled to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

Each time they tried to get close to the candle in its glass holder, the flame grew and spat at them. The overhead lights flared, painting the room white. Then, one by one, the bulbs burst, showering the room with flying shards of hot glass, until soon the only light in the room was from the flaring candle in its thick glass holder. Mulder grabbed Scully around the waist and hauled her away, backing into the bedroom as he wrapped his arms around her, wanting to shield her from harm.

“It’s no good Scully, we can’t get close enough without risking a fire.” Mulder looked back at the living room for some other way of tackling the problem. His gaze fell on Christian’s note, discarded on the coffee table.

“Christian… Scully - the other candleholder!” Before he had finished speaking Scully was already dialling the phone number Christian had given them on their first meeting. She may not subscribe to Mulder’s theory, but she trusted his instincts.

As soon as Christian picked up, Scully started speaking.

“Christian, it’s the glass! Do you still have the glass?” Scully tried to calm her voice to make herself understood.

“Agent Scully? Yes, I haven’t had a shift at Witch House since…”

“Smash it! It’s…you need to smash it. Please! You were right. It’s connected to Hathorne in some way!” Hisses and bangs continued to sound around them, loud enough to be heard at the other end of the phone. The lights in the bedroom flicked on, flared and then went out, plunging them back into shadowy gloom. Mulder moved back to Scully’s side and placed a hand on her head, tucking her into his shoulder, trying to shelter her from whatever was going to happen next.

There was no response from Christian. The phone sat silent against Scully’s ear. The energy in the room continued to build, pressure mounting until their ears began to pop. Out in the living area, another bulb flared then popped, glass tinkling then landing silently on the carpet. A thin line of black formed along one wall where the wiring behind the plasterboard had started to smoulder. An acrid smell filled the air. Scully tried to shake free of Mulder’s grasp-was about to use force to break his hold on her-when Christian came back to the phone.

“It’s done. I dropped it onto the kitchen floor and it shattered into a million pieces. Michael is currently grinding the shards into powder. Did it work? Agent Scully? Did it work?”

Scully continued to cradle the phone as she assessed their situation. The pressure had started to ease and for a moment it was quiet. Scully pulled against Mulder’s tight hold and this time he released her. They both moved cautiously to the doorway of the bedroom. The little explosions had ceased but the candle in the glass on the console table continued to burn, no longer a small flame, but a solid pillar of fire that reached far up the wall, the flame licking higher and higher, scorching the wall behind it and throwing eerie shadows around the room.

Now a deep chill pervaded the room. The atmosphere felt charged, the air itself almost crackling with energy. There was movement at the periphery of their vision, something not quite tangible. Under the entry door, they could see the hallway lights flickering on and off and could hear voices as nearby guests opened their doors to check what was happening. The flame of the candle roared and licked against the wall. The wallpaper began to blacken and curl. Mulder felt Scully’s body tense beside him as she prepared to move to put out the flame. He held her to him, a restraining pressure at her hip and shoulder.

Then, as they watched, the air around the glass candle holder seemed to coalesce, shimmering and swirling, like a woman’s hair blowing in a strong wind. Without warning, the flame blew out, plunging the space into darkness. The air continued to move and sparkle and the candle holder seemed to lift and hover for a moment before it was propelled into the far wall, as if by an unseen hand, and it shattered and fell to the floor in hot, jagged shards.

The tension in the room dissipated like a lightning strike had grounded all the electricity with one audible pop. Scully sighed and raised the phone to her mouth.

“Yes, Christian, it worked. Thank you!” She listened for a moment and her gaze flicked over to Mulder. She gave a small smile and nodded.

“I will. We’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight, Christian. Thank you again!” She hung up and stood surveying the room. Mulder flicked on the bedroom light and went to pull on his running shoes, then gingerly picked his way over to turn on the one lamp in the living area that had an undamaged bulb. He refused to look at Scully.

There was glass all over the living area and the smell of smoke lingered. Mulder surveyed the room, shoulders tense. He closed his eyes and made an obvious effort to calm himself. When he opened his eyes again he finally made eye contact with Scully. When she met his gaze openly and without hostility, he felt an enormous sense of relief.

“I guess we’re leaving a good tip for housekeeping in the morning?” he quipped. Scully gave a small smile and shook her head at him as she walked over to join him. She looked at him again, gauging her welcome before letting her head fall onto his chest. He raised one hand to the back of her neck, holding her gently. Her arms circled Mulder’s waist and they stood for a moment, letting the tension drain away.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

They separated and fell back onto well-practised routines. Mulder called the front desk and asked to talk to the night manager, who came to inspect the room and then organised for the agents to be relocated yet again, this time to the second floor. Scully reluctantly placed a call to Skinner before he heard about the events of the evening from Hargrave’s influential friend. She kept it brief and promised to email him a full report by the end of the following day.


	13. Chapter 13

Both agents returned to the bedroom and it was mercifully free of glass. Wordlessly, they went back out to the living area and pulled off their sweaters to avoid spreading any shards that might have caught in the wool. They changed into fresh shirts, packed their belongings again and took the stairs down to the second floor, using the key that the manager had sent up. Four rooms in three nights-a new record!

The weary pair deposited their cases in yet another bedroom. Before doing anything else, Scully led Mulder into the bathroom and made him lean over the basin while she brushed his hair to remove any glass that might have found its way there. Confident that none remained, she quickly lathered in shampoo and rinsed, before pouring conditioner into her palm and smoothing it into Mulder’s hair. She massaged his scalp with a soothing motion, using her nails to rake through his thick locks. The angle wasn’t a comfortable one, so she didn’t linger, pouring warm water over his hair to remove the foam. She draped a towel around his shoulders and allowed him to stand. Scully couldn’t reach up to dry his hair, so she led him over to sit on the edge of the bath. He spread his knees so she could stand between them and towel dry his hair. When she was done she pressed a kiss to his temple and then returned to the basin so he could repeat the same steps for her. Finally, confident that they would not wake up covered in scratches, they finished getting ready for bed.

It was still early, but the massive release of adrenaline during their ordeal had left them both drained. They slid into bed and rolled to face one another. They lay quietly for some time until Scully spoke up.

“You were right Mulder. I refuse to call it a ghost, but you were right. And you figured out how to make it stop.” Mulder went to speak but Scully placed her index finger to his lips. He waited.

“I was rattled by the lights in the elevator and snapped at you instead of talking to you properly. I’m sorry about that. And I know you were yelling because you were worried for me. You wanted me to listen to you and I wasn’t. I’m sorry for that too. But I need to tell you that I don’t like it when you use your size to restrain me.” She saw his face darken with something like guilt or regret. “I trust you, Mulder, I know you would _never_ hurt me, but I feel completely powerless when you restrain me like that without my consent. Please don’t do it again.”

Mulder waited to make sure she had said everything she wanted to say. When it was apparent she had, he responded. “I’m sorry, Scully. The thought of anything happening to you terrifies me. But that’s my issue. I won’t grab you like that again.” He thought about the other things she had said. “It frustrates the hell out of me when you don’t want to accept the things we’ve seen just on blind faith, but I know that’s what has made us so successful in our work: you push me for evidence that can’t be dismissed so lightly and insist on explanations that can be defended. I don’t need you to change that about yourself.” He lifted his hand to the space between their pillows and Scully put her hand in his. With his free hand, he swept a lock of damp hair off Scully’s cheek and tucked it behind her ear. She smiled softly.

“Good night, Mulder.” He smiled back at her then rolled to turn off the light.

“Good night, Scully.”

\--

9:00 PM

Thirty minutes later Scully was woken by Mulder shifting uncomfortably beside her. She sensed he was trying very hard not to disturb her, but he was failing miserably.

“Mulder?” she asked.

“Can’t sleep,” he muttered, sitting up and swinging his feet onto the floor. “I’ll get up and leave you in peace, Scully. I’m not fit for company tonight.”

“Fox Mulder, get back here!” Her tone commanded obedience. “Take your shirt off and come back to bed.” Mulder froze, not expecting that response. “Relax, Mulder,” Scully laughed. “I just want to help you sleep.” As she spoke, Scully was opening the buttons on her pyjama top, starting at the bottom. She continued until only one button fastened the fabric across her chest. Mulder stood, entranced. “Come lie down,” she requested again in a softer voice.

Mulder peeled off his shirt and dropped it to the floor. He lay back onto the mattress. “Roll over,” said Scully, and he obeyed, wordlessly. She adjusted her top so that the loose fabric was tucked behind her, leaving her stomach bare. She drew the blanket up over Mulder’s shoulder so they were both tucked under the comforting weight of the bedding. Finally, Scully pressed her bare torso firmly against his back and wrapped her arm around his ribcage, resting her hand on his chest. Her head was on his pillow, her breath warm against his neck. He shivered at the sensation and she held him more tightly.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she whispered. She splayed her fingers out on his chest, maximising their skin to skin contact, then nudged at his knee until he shifted enough to allow her to slip one leg between his and tangle them together in a comforting knot.

“We’re safe. We’re good,” she continued to speak soothingly; sweet nonsense designed to connect with Mulder and calm him. She could feel his racing heart begin to slow to a steadier thump. He sighed deeply, willing himself to be still; to allow himself to be held and reassured. He sighed again and took her hand in his. He raised it to his lips and pressed kisses to the tender skin of her wrist. When he released her hand, she cradled his cheek until he turned his head and placed a kiss on her open palm. He could sense her smile even though he couldn’t see her.

“Thank you, Scully.”

“You’re welcome.” He was more peaceful now. She could feel his body grow heavier as he relaxed.

“Can we swap?” he asked her after a few minutes more. “Can I hold you?” Scully lifted her head and kissed Mulder’s cheek before she rolled to her other side and waited for him to shift in behind her. He slid one arm under her neck to cradle her head and she lay back so her weight rested against him. Her head was on his shoulder and he moved until his lips could press behind her ear in an open-mouthed kiss. Her silky pyjama top felt cool against his belly and he was suddenly aware of the comfort the touch of her skin had provided. He rolled her a little more so she was lying on her side. Scully tucked her knees up so Mulder could curl around her. He placed his hand tentatively on her belly, craving her warmth and softness. She mirrored his earlier action and brought his hand to her mouth, kissing the pulse point on his wrist. She released him for a moment and undid the final button on her top. Scully reclaimed Mulder’s hand and pressed it against her breastbone so that his fingers traced along her clavicle and his arm lay across her belly, pressed into the valley between her breasts. He rested his head on the pillow behind her and focussed on her steady breathing and the supple warmth of her body in his arms.

\--

ROOM 208

FRIDAY 14 JANUARY

7 AM

They woke as they had drifted off to sleep, with Mulder curled around Scully’s tiny frame. Outside, the temperature had dropped sharply overnight, leaving the bed a cosy nest in the chilly room. Half asleep, Scully turned in Mulder’s arms and buried her face in his neck, her breasts pressed against his chest; a fact Mulder quickly noted when he woke moments later. Daringly, he slid his hand under her open pyjama top and ran it up and down Scully’s back, warming them both. Every fourth or fifth pass he allowed his hand to continue down, past her tiny waist to glide over her satin-clad rear. Scully slid her hands up to rest on either side of Mulder’s neck. She opened her eyes and met his; blue on hazel. Her thumbs grazed his jawline.

“Good morning,” she whispered, her lips a breath away from his. Mulder’s hands continued to roam her back, but his boldness evaporated under Scully’s endless gaze: his hands did not drift below her waistline again.

“Good morning!” He returned her greeting with a smile and a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Did you sleep?”

“Mm. I did. I like waking up like this.”

“With your hand on my ass?”

“Yes, and your bare breasts on my chest.”

“Skin on skin contact. It’s very therapeutic…and it feels good. You’re touch starved, Mulder.” She ran one finger along his jaw and then down his throat to where their chests were pressed together. He shivered. She returned her hand to his cheek and closed the gap between their mouths. The kiss lingered but Scully made no move to deepen it, so neither did Mulder.

When they separated, Mulder examined her face questioningly.

“What are we doing, Scully?” He stilled his hands at her back and moved one to cradle her head, keeping her close.

“Waiting,” she replied.

“Scully, we’ve been waiting forever. If we’re still waiting, then nothing’s changed. Why are you lying here half-naked in my arms?” He leant in and kissed her again, sweet and slow. “Please know I’m not complaining! I’m just…confused.”

Scully returned the kiss; harder and faster than the original. “I’m ready, Mulder. I don’t know if you are. I thought you were, that we both were; then yesterday happened and you started blaming yourself. I can’t… I won’t…” She hesitated as she sought the words to adequately express her reservations. She tried again.

“I love you, Mulder: I know that’s not news to you. You’re my partner and my best friend. I wake up thinking about you and I go to bed every damn night wishing I were with you. But you are not…my…keeper.” She punctuated her final three words with kisses. She wanted him to hear her but not to think he was being rejected. She knew his tender heart was easily bruised.

“And as for this…” she gestured down to her bare breasts, still resting on Mulder’s torso. Mulder’s gaze politely followed her movement. When he didn’t raise his eyes back to hers, she tapped him gently on the cheek. “Eyes up.”

He grinned wolfishly.

“As for this,” she continued, “I meant what I said. You’re touch starved. I needed you to relax. Skin-on-skin contact helps lower heart rate, blood pressure, cortisol levels and calms breathing. I wanted you to feel better and didn’t particularly want to drug you if I didn’t have to.”

Mulder gathered her to him and hugged her gently. He placed a kiss on her cheek and then shifted away from her. He reached for the edges of her pyjama top and maintaining eye contact with Scully, slowly buttoned the shirt.

“Thank you. It worked. I slept well and I do feel better. But now all this skin is having the opposite effect on me,” he confessed. He finished his task and rolled back to her so he could whisper in her ear. “The next time I see your beautiful breasts, Scully, I want to taste them.” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth and smiled when he felt her entire body shudder against him. He placed one hand on either side of Scully on the bed and raised himself up so he hovered over her.

“I’m sorry you were worried about me. I was upset that you were in danger again because of our work. But you’re wrong-I don’t see myself as your keeper. You are my friend, my love, my partner. You’re the strongest person I know, and I know you don’t need me, but I do hope you want me. I’m ready for you. I’m ready for us, Scully.”

He lowered himself and kissed her forehead, her cheek and finally, her mouth. Scully wrapped her arms around his strong back and pulled him to her so that his upper body was resting on hers. When the kiss finally ended, he shifted his weight to the side and nestled into the crook of her neck. He seemed ready to settle in for a nap when he suddenly raised his head and looked around the room.

“Hey, nothing appears to be on fire, Scully,” he grinned.

“Speak for yourself, Mulder!” His smile grew even wider.

“Think it’s safe for that massage today?” he asked, before nuzzling back into Scully’s neck.

“I’m willing to risk it if you are,” she replied. “I’d like to go and thank Christian at some stage, and there’s something else I’d like to do too if we have time. First, we’ll have to amend our report to reflect what happened last night; the hotel is sure to seek damages for the room repairs: at least one wall will have to come out to replace the wiring that burnt out.”

“Sounds like a plan. Shall we have breakfast here and then use the library again to sort out the report? It’ll save us rugging up until we need to go out.”

“Yes, let’s go to Nathaniel’s. It’s the same menu as the Tavern but it’s a brighter space. I feel the need for sunlight this morning.”


	14. Chapter 14

NATHANIEL’S RESTAURANT

8 AM

Breakfast was a leisurely affair. Scully felt like a cliché as she stole bites of pancake, drenched in syrup, from Mulder’s plate, but after last night, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She wanted to feel close to him; wanted to see Mulder’s eyes light up when she took liberties with him. Scully knew things would be different when they returned to D.C. and, though she was hopeful that this new openness between them would persist, today she was going to take opportunities as they presented themselves. Mulder felt no need to sample her simple meal of fruit and yoghurt. He sipped his coffee and gazed unabashedly until his partner’s cheeks were suffused with warmth. When she offered him the strawberry from her salad, they both paused to recollect one of the more pleasant moments from the previous evening.

Once finished with the food, they both ordered a second cup of coffee to carry carefully down into the library. Again, the room was empty. They returned to the back corner and Mulder handed Scully her briefcase, from which she swiftly unpacked her laptop and opened the case file. They discussed the necessary amendments and she began typing while Mulder soon drifted off to browse the bookshelves. Scully didn’t comment: he would earn his keep when he made the call to Skinner once the report was finished! To her satisfaction, she managed to complete the report without using the word ‘ghost’, even though she knew that when they returned to D.C., Mulder would print out a copy for their files and scrawl his theories in the margins.

Report emailed, Mulder placed the call to Skinner, who cringed when Mulder explained the damage to the room, anticipating an unpleasant discussion when the departmental budget review rolled around. He was, however, pleased to hear that both Mulder and Scully were of the opinion that the case was now, effectively, closed. He promised to pull the paperwork for their personal day and again wished them a pleasant weekend in that knowing tone.

Scully packed up her laptop and their files and they returned to their room to gather coats and scarves. Suitably armed against the frigid January morning, the pair headed to the car. As they ran the heater and waited for the windows to defrost, Mulder leant across the console and offered a kiss. Scully could not help a quick scan of the car park to ensure they were unobserved, but, satisfied that they were alone, she accepted, although she had to grasp Mulder’s scarf to pull him within reach of her lips. He was happy to comply. Suitably fortified, they headed out along the highway towards to Danvers. The road was icy, so the journey was completed at a slower pace than the previous day. Scully watched the frosty scenery and Mulder concentrated on his driving.

At Scully’s request, Mulder pulled the car over at the end of the building furthest from Christian’s store. They went into the florists to buy a bunch of flowers to thank Christian for her timely communication and intervention the previous night. Mulder suggested peach roses as an appropriate expression of gratitude, earning him an impressed look from the florist behind the counter. The flowers were wrapped and purchased. Mulder and Scully left the car where it was parked and walked briskly along the row of shops until they reached Christian’s store. They entered and found a few customers busy scanning the shelves. Christian was farewelling a customer who passed them on her way out, smiling broadly at the beautiful bouquet held by Scully.

Christian welcomed them warmly and took the proffered flowers from Scully with a simple ‘Thank you’ and a soft press of Scully’s hand with her own. “I’m relieved that things turned out so well. I was worried about you.”

“Things may not have ended so well if not for you, Christian. It was your note that suggested to Mulder that we were dealing with negative energy, rather than Bridget’s protective one. I’m not sure how to explain the link between the glasses and what we experienced, but evidence suggests that there was at least some correlation.”

“I didn’t tell you, but when you left last time, all the candles in the store had been extinguished. It made me wonder what had caused that to happen. I’m not sure that you two are aware of the extraordinary energy you have together, but it started me thinking. Then when my supervisor was explaining the provenance of the glasses I was thinking about Bridget and why Hathorne disliked her so much. It occurred to me just how many character traits you and Bridget seem to share, Agent Scully. I don’t know you at all, really, but you appear tenacious and forthright and willing to stand up for what you believe is right.” Mulder was nodding along in agreement as she spoke.

Christian smiled at Mulder thoughtfully. “It seems you two complement each other rather nicely, Agent Mulder. Faith and scepticism in dynamic harmony.”

Mulder returned the smile, “Yes, we take turns to be the cynic. It’s Scully’s go this week,” he turned and winked at his partner, receiving an eye-roll for his trouble. Mulder and Christian laughed softly.

“I can see why the judge didn’t know what to make of you Agent Scully. You would make a formidable opponent.”

“True,” said Mulder. “But she makes an unshakeable ally!” His sincerity shone through and was noticed by both women.

“You’re busy, Christian,” said Scully as she looked around the little store. “We won’t keep you. We just wanted to thank you for your help. Not many people would have been so willing to act with so little information.”

Christian smiled at them both. “Taking things on faith can be risky, but I’ve found it’s usually quite rewarding too.” Mulder and Scully both got the impression Christian wasn’t really talking about the case. They both shifted a little uncomfortably, feeling a bit exposed.

“Anyway, thank you for your time. I’m sorry the Witch House is again missing a glass from its display-ours ended up smashed too,” said Scully.

“Not to worry. My supervisor will write up this newest story of Judge Hathorne and turn the glasses into a feature all of their own. It’s just another chapter in the strange history of Salem.” Christian walked back to her counter and placed the roses down gently. She picked up a small package and walked back to Agent Scully.

“I have something for you since you don’t have the glass to hold your candles anymore.” Scully opened the paper sack and peeked inside. Christian had selected beautiful rose and geranium scented candles for Scully; tiny tealights in little glass cups and taller pillar candles with a rose pattern pressed into the soft pink surface of the wax. Scully closed her eyes and breathed in the aroma, a small smile playing on her lips.

“They’re beautiful, thank you, Christian.”

“Enjoy them. Both of you,” she replied.

“We will!” It was Mulder who responded. Scully nodded in agreement.

\--

10:00 AM

“I think she likes you, Scully,” Mulder observed as they walked back to the car.

“If I were s…” Scully caught herself just in time. “If I were looking, I might be tempted,” she amended. “She’s so calming to be around.”

Mulder tilted his head to one side and studied Scully. She always kept him guessing. And his guess was that she had been about to confess that she no longer considered herself to be single! Mulder’s confidence grew. Since their midnight kiss, Scully had seemed happy. She was smiling a lot and teasing him as much as he teased her. This week had confirmed for him that she wanted the same things he did. It really was time to stop holding back.

“I’m glad you’re not looking, Scully,” he said. “It would break my heart if you were!”

Scully looked at him and was instantly nervous when she saw the intensity of his gaze. She gave a little laugh.

“Yeah, right!” she deflected.

“Hey!” He caught up her hand and held it. “Don’t do that,” he admonished gently.

She looked up at him, unsure of his meaning.

“Don’t pretend that I’m playing; that I don’t mean every word of what I just said. Tell me to stop if you don’t want to hear it and I’ll respect that, but don’t dismiss me like you’re afraid I’m just teasing you. I will _never_ do that to you, Scully.”

Scully’s eyes filled with tears; big blue oceans that he could drown in so easily. He kissed her softly and then wiped the wetness from her cheeks with his thumbs, but he didn’t let her off the hook; not this time. He watched her steadily, waiting. He’d wait for this woman forever if he had to.

“Sorry,” she whispered sincerely. “There’s no one else, Mulder. Only you. I just want you.” She slid her arms around his middle and pulled him in close. He wrapped her up in his secure embrace, content to hold her for as long as she’d let him. Mulder was about to tilt her chin up for another kiss when he felt her body begin to shake. He loosened his hold on her to move so he could see her, but Scully drew her hands up to hide her face. She was sobbing! Mulder pulled her back to his chest and held her tightly. He wasn’t sure what was wrong and could only think to keep her close and provide what comfort he could until she was ready to talk to him. He soothed her by rubbing circles on her back, lowering his head to rest his cheek against her silky red hair. It took several minutes until her body relaxed against his and her breathing was calmer. She slipped one hand under the collar of her coat and her fingers played with something he couldn’t see. Still, he waited for Scully to raise her tear-streaked face to his so he could make eye contact and try to figure out what had just happened. He knew there was a chance she wouldn’t want to talk about it, so he was relieved when she gave him a shaky smile and began to speak.

“I’m so bad at this!”

“At what, Scully?” Mulder prompted gently.

“Relationships. All I think about is us being together and then as soon as you make a move I run away like a coward! I’ve spent the last two weeks praying that you’d kiss me again and we’re finally…” she paused and laughed at herself. “Why is it that I’m fine lying half-naked in bed with you but I can’t tell you how I feel? I’m so sorry Mulder. You just mean so much to me.”

“Scully, we’ve never been good with words when it comes to talking about us, but you show me all the time how you feel: I’ve never felt so loved in my whole life! Please stop worrying; I’m a sure thing!” He grinned at her and earned a sniffly chuckle. “Whether it’s this week or next month or whenever, it will happen when we’re both ready.” He gave her a soft smile that grew cheekier as he bent to whisper in her ear. “And if you think lying in bed with you is some sort of consolation prize then I’ll just have to show you how wrong you are!” He began to trail kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Scully tilted her head to the side to grant him easier access. When he reached the spot above the knot in her scarf he left his lips there, pressed hotly against her cool skin. She reached for him and placed her hand on his neck, holding him to her for a moment longer, before releasing him so he could straighten up before their height difference took a toll on his back.

“Come on, this case is closed and I’m freezing my ass off out here. Let’s go somewhere to get warm, Miss Scully!”

“Barbados?”

“Just say the word!” he replied with eyebrows raised, earning a little giggle from his partner.

“Six years I’ve been telling terrible jokes to try and make you smile. It’s finally paying off,” he said.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she teased, finally starting to look a little brighter. Mulder was relieved. “Come on,” she added. “Let’s get in the car, I’ve given this entire neighbourhood enough to talk about for a month!”

“As far as anyone watching knows, I was just giving you a hug. And who would blame me?” he winked at Scully, earning himself another little smile. He opened the car door and handed her in, giving her hand a squeeze as he let go and walked around to the driver’s side. He climbed in and started the engine to get the heater running.

“We could go to the Peabody Museum. It’s supposed to be very good. They have a maritime collection you might like, Scully.”

“Sounds good.”

Mulder indicated and pulled the car out into the flow of traffic. Scully pulled down the sun visor to repair the damage to her make-up. It was a short drive back to the hotel, where they parked the car. Scully rummaged briefly in the bag Christian had given to her. She popped something in her pocket and then joined Mulder. The walk to the museum was only 2 minutes, thankfully - the weather had not warmed. They paid to enter, checked their coats and scarves, and wandered around the lower level, admiring the architecture and the various items on display.

“The artefacts were originally collected by the members of the Seafarers Association. They pledged to circumnavigate the world and share their learning with the other members. This is a significant collection now, both for its age and diversity.” Mulder explained. Scully was never sure when or where he picked up these snippets of information. She had been with him literally all week and had not seen him do any research.

“The East India Marine Hall is the oldest part of the building and has all the maritime artefacts. Shall we?” Mulder offered Scully his hand and she accepted graciously. They climbed the stairs to the bright, light-filled space, tall, arched windows allowing in all the sunlight that the pale winter’s morning had to offer. Wide wooden floorboards and softly painted walls glowed in the light. In front of each window was displayed a ship’s figurehead; from a Scottish soldier in a kilt to the more traditional, bare-breasted women.

“Women on a ship were considered unlucky; as we discovered to our own peril. Maybe if you’d taken your top off…” Mulder teased. Scully shot him a mock scowl as she remembered their fateful voyage across Heuvelman’s Lake and their subsequent sinking. The salvage bill had not endeared them to Skinner, but she fondly remembered her conversation with Mulder as they sat on that rock, just metres from the shore.

They continued to wander around the museum, enjoying the recreations of ship cabins on the lower floor of the building. Mulder was entertained by the unfamiliar objects collected by sailors on their travels to exotic lands. Scully was entertained by Mulder’s constant chatter as he invented the provenance for each piece that caught his eye: the Fiji Mermaid seemed to feature quite prominently in his tales.


	15. Chapter 15

12:00 PM

The museum’s café, with its golden chairs and dusky pink tablecloths, looked appealing. They decided to have lunch there. Scully chose the vegetable soup and Mulder selected the chowder. Both meals arrived steaming hot and accompanied by warm bread. They talked about sailing and mermaids and maps where ‘Here be monsters’ was considered sufficient warning for the canny sailor.

“They should have written that at the map co-ordinates where the Queen Anne reappeared. You might not have ended up in the hospital,” mused Scully.

“You mean with the black eye you gave me?” Mulder smirked.

“I may have shot you, but I’ve never punched you!” protested Scully. Mulder laughed at her indignant expression and he squeezed her knee placatingly.

“I deserved the bullet _and_ the black eye,” he said. “I’m doing my best to make sure there’s no call for a repeat of either in the future, Scully.” She placed her hand over his and returned the gentle pressure.

“Well, you’ll be pleased to know then that it’s been at least 12 hours since I felt the impulse to do you physical harm,” she teased.

“I’m thrilled to hear it,” Mulder returned. “I have to admit though, I’ve been feeling all sorts of impulses lately, Scully.” He started out in a teasing manner but before he was done speaking, his expression had morphed into an intense gaze, hazel eyes darkening as he bit his lower lip in contemplation. For a moment, any onlooker might be forgiven for thinking the ghost of Judge Hathorne was back, for the energy surrounding Mulder and Scully was palpable. But this was chemistry, not physics.

The tension was broken as their waiter returned to the table. They requested the bill and settled it, before collecting their coats and bundling up for their walk back to the hotel. 

“I know it’s too cold for ice-cream, Mulder, but that candy store we visited the other day had hot chocolate that smelled delicious. Would you like to take a walk back that way and have a cup?” Mulder agreed readily and Scully hooked her arm into his as they walked the short distance to Charter Street. The pretty little store had tables and chairs nestled into one corner of the shop and Scully claimed one of the round tables while Mulder went and placed their drinks order at the counter: dark chocolate and mint for Scully and a chilli-chocolate concoction for himself. The place was empty on this early Friday afternoon so their drinks arrived quickly. The chocolate was thick and rich and hot. They sipped their drinks quietly, content to share a peaceful moment after the events of the past day. Scully wrapped both hands around her cup, warming them.

“This week has been a strange one, Mulder, but these bits where it’s just us have been really nice.”

“Yeah, they have,” he replied. “We need to find some quiet places like this to make our own when we’re back in D.C.”

“I’d like that.”

“What about this afternoon? What would you like to do now?” Mulder asked.

“Well, I have an idea for something we can do tonight, but it involves staying up late. Would it be awful if we went back to the hotel and had a nap?” Scully asked, a little nervously.

“Hm, an afternoon tucked up in bed? Why that sounds like a terrible idea, Agent Scully!” Mulder practically purred in Scully’s ear. “What are we waiting for?”

“There’s just one more stop I’d like to make on the way; you can go on ahead if you want,” Scully offered.

“Nah, not unless you want me to,” he responded. She shook her head.

“Okay, are you ready to go?” she asked. Mulder nodded and they made their way to the door, wishing the woman behind the counter a good afternoon as they left. Outside, Scully took Mulder’s hand and led him across the empty street; the cold weather was keeping people indoors, it seemed. As they walked, Scully explained her plan.

“I want to visit Bridget’s memorial one more time. Last time we were arguing and I wasn’t really focussed. I know you’ll think this strange coming from me, but when the glass was shattered last night, it felt like there was a protective energy around us. The energy felt…feminine. I think Bridget was protecting us, Mulder.” She paused to look up at Mulder and gauge his response to her uncharacteristic admission. He just nodded encouragingly, so she continued. “I’d like to say thank you.”

A few more steps had them at the entrance to the Witch Trial Memorial. They walked, hand in hand, around to the stone bench that was engraved with Bridget’s name. Scully dropped Mulder’s hand and withdrew from her pocket one of the little tealight candles that Christian had given to her that morning. She looked around until she spotted a lighted candle on another bench and walked over to touch the wick of her candle to the flame until it caught alight, then returned to Mulder’s side and placed the candle on Bridget’s bench. They stood together, contemplatively. Scully again glanced at Mulder then closed her eyes and blessed herself before she began to pray. Mulder stood and waited for her, enjoying looking at her without being similarly observed in return. Her long lashes feathered winter reddened cheeks. It wasn’t long before Scully repeated the sign of the cross and opened her eyes. She looked shyly at her partner. This was a part of herself she didn’t often share with him. He reached towards her and tucked her hair back, cupping her cheek with his hand, smiling.

“Thanks for waiting for me,” she said.

“Miss Scully, you are always worth the wait.” She reclaimed his hand and led them both back out to the street. They hurried along the sidewalk, keen to get into the hotel and out of the cold.

\--

THE HAWTHORNE HOTEL

1:30 PM

Once back in their hotel room, outer layers removed and hung by the door, Scully and Mulder paused and looked at each other.

“So…nap?” asked Mulder.

“Why does this suddenly feel like such a big deal?” replied Scully. Mulder reached out and put his hand on Scully’ shoulder, drawing her close enough to drop a kiss to the top of her head.

“Because we think too much. Go put on something comfortable and I’ll draw the curtains and turn down the bed.” Reassured, although still nervous, Scully gave Mulder a quick hug and headed to the bedroom to collect her pyjama bottoms, retreating to the bathroom to change. Mulder flicked on a lamp and closed the heavy bedroom curtains, instantly creating a cosy glow in the room. He found his pyjama pants and a soft white t-shirt and waited for Scully to emerge from the bathroom, still in the top she had been wearing, minus the bra, and with her silky pyjama bottoms. She’d washed the make-up off her face and looked so lovely that Mulder stood and stared until she smiled self-consciously and gently brushed past him to tidy away her clothes. Mulder quickly went into the bathroom and stripped off his jeans and long-sleeved shirt. He, too, returned to the bedroom and put away the clothes he had removed. Scully was already in the bed, watching him as he closed the doors to both the bathroom and living area, before flicking off the bedroom lamp. The curtains were too effective: he could barely see Scully or the bed, so Mulder felt his way to the window and allowed a sliver of cool afternoon light to enter. Satisfied, he made his way over to the bed and climbed under the soft covers. The sheets were cool and smooth and he sighed happily. Scully giggled and slid over until they were touching.

“Tell me a story, Mulder.”

“There once was a beautiful woman who had the coldest feet imaginable…” he began, only to be stopped by a chilly little hand slipping under his shirt and resting at his waist.

“Seriously, woman, you’re a block of ice!” he yelped. He grabbed her hands and brought them up to his lips, blowing on them and rubbing them between his larger, warmer fingers.

“Well, I have a bedwarmer,” she teased, “but perhaps he’s faulty?”

As intended, her words provoked Mulder into action. He huffed out a laugh and ran one hand down the side of Scully’s body: shoulder, waist, hip, ass. When she made no protest he squeezed lightly. She sighed, so he did it again, and was rewarded with a subtle twitch of her hips. He wouldn’t have noticed except that she had curved one leg over his upper thigh and was pressed against him.

Setting aside his own desire, Mulder decorously raised his hand back to Scully’s waist, allowing her to dictate their pace. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then a second and a third. She feathered her lips over his before increasing her pressure until he yielded and opened his mouth to hers. They kissed until they were both breathless and Scully fell back onto the mattress with a contented little grunt. “God, I love being able to do that with you!” she confessed when her pulse had slowed enough to allow for speech. Mulder immediately rolled towards her, ready to continue, but she stilled him with a hand to his chest. She took one of his hands in hers and played with it for a moment while she gathered her thoughts, then looked over at Mulder to explain. “I can’t get out of my own head today, Mulder. I want to. So bad! It’s just such high stakes if I mess this up. ” She removed her hand and allowed him to share her pillow. He kissed her cheek and that spot behind her ear that he had recently discovered made her throw her head back in pleasure.

“I have a suggestion,” he whispered.

“Oh, yes?” Scully replied, with one perfect eyebrow raised curiously.

“Let’s go home in the morning…” Mulder saw the look of dismay on Scully’s face and broke off to kiss her. “No! Listen-we go home on an early flight. You spend the day relaxing or cleaning or whatever it is you do on Saturdays when you leave me all by myself. And tomorrow night I come over and we have a movie night and some take out. Just a regular Saturday, like we’ve done before.” Scully nodded, still not sure what he was suggesting. “Except…” he added, “when it gets to 11 o’clock and I pretend I think I should leave, and you pretend to agree, we won’t pretend anymore, Scully. How does that sound?”

“Perfect. It sounds perfect, Mulder.” Scully hugged him fiercely. Mulder returned the hug and began tracing lazy patterns on her back until her relaxed body sagged into his chest. “You won’t mess this up, Scully. There’s nothing you could do that would make me not want this with you,” Mulder admitted.

Scully nodded and smiled at him. She lifted one hand and began to run her fingers rhythmically through Mulder’s hair, grazing his scalp with her nails, coaxing him to join her in sleep. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift to the feel of Scully in his arms, the scent of her shampoo, the sensation of her fingers playing in his hair and the tickle of her breath on his neck.


	16. Chapter 16

Mulder hadn’t expected to sleep, he rarely did, so it was with some surprise he woke up to find the room painted in the soft glow of the streetlamps outside their window.

“What time is it?” he asked Scully, who was already awake.

“A little after three. You look like you napped well?”

“I did. Did you?”

“For a bit. Then I started dreaming about exploding lamps and disapproving ghosts. I guess I have a bit more work to do to get over last night.”

“Our relaxing, easy cases are rarely what they seem, are they? What can I do to help, Scully?”

“I’m fine, Mulder.” He rolled his eyes at that and she had the good grace to laugh. “Seriously, I’m okay. I woke up and you were right here. I was happy just to curl up beside you and wait for you to wake up.” Mulder wrapped his long arm around her waist and gathered her to him. She tilted her head up and kissed the tip of his nose before pressing her lips to his soft mouth. “Who wouldn’t want to wake up to this?”

\--

Scully went into the bathroom to freshen up. Seizing the opportunity, Mulder jumped up and bustled about the room. He went out to the living area and found the bag of candles Christian had presented to Scully. He returned with the matches and the pink rose pillar. He placed it on the dresser and lit it. The delicate scent of roses and geraniums began to perfume the room. Next, he went to the pile of clean linen and returned with two fresh, fluffy towels. He quickly folded back the blankets and top sheet and spread one towel out flat. Scully emerged from the bathroom as he finished his preparations. She nodded approvingly. Mulder went to her and took her hand, leading her around to the side of the bed where he had arranged the thick, white towel. 

“Lie down on your belly in whatever you’re comfortable wearing Scully. I’m going to wash my hands and grab the massage oil from the bathroom.” She nodded and watched as he left the room and closed the bathroom door behind him to give her some privacy while she undressed.

Mulder took his time washing his hands in warm water and drying them thoroughly. He lifted the small bottle of sandalwood and rose oil and waited another moment before re-entering the bedroom. When he did it was to find Scully lying face down, as requested, wearing a high-cut sapphire-blue bikini – and nothing else. She’d even removed her necklace. Mulder suddenly felt as nervous as Scully looked peaceful. Her arms were lying loosely by her sides and her head was turned away from him. She looked tiny and fragile. Mulder knew that the later impression was completely misleading.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes.” Eyes closed, she smiled in the general direction of the wall, already looking more relaxed than when he’d woken up.

Mulder walked around to Scully and picked up the second towel. He left it folded in half and used it to cover Scully’s torso, leaving her arms and legs exposed. He sat next to her on the bed, tucking one long leg under him, out of the way. He opened the small bottle of oil, pouring a little into his palm before rubbing his hands together to spread the oil and warm it. He began by replicating the hand massage he had given Scully in Christian’s store, linking their fingers and tracing the lines on her palms. When he was confident that Scully had relaxed, he moved his hands up to her shoulder, pressing circles over the joint before working his way down her arm with long, firm strokes that followed the contours of her well-defined muscles.

“Talk to me, Scully. Tell me what you like. I want to know what makes you feel good.”

“Mm, just like that. Firm pressure-no tickling.”

“Yes ma’am!” Mulder was happy that Scully was willing to talk about what gave her pleasure. It seemed like a good sign of things to come. He placed her arm bent at an angle so that her hand was by her head then repeated his actions on her other arm before sliding the towel down to expose her back. He placed a kiss on each sculpted shoulder blade before recoating his hands lightly in oil and sliding one hand under her hair to palm her neck firmly, squeezing his way down to the spot he had kissed on the left scapula, before starting again on the right side. Scully lay quietly, letting out a series of contented hums as tense muscles relaxed under Mulder’s touch. He was by no means expert-his opportunities to hone these skills had been few and far between-but he knew his partner so well that he was able to read her even in this unfamiliar situation. When she responded to his touch with pleasure, he continued. If she tensed up or became still and silent, he moved on. After working his way down Scully’s spine to her lower back, long fingers pressing and rubbing her porcelain skin, Mulder repositioned the towel over her back to keep her warm and moved further down the bed to sit by her feet. He reapplied fragrant oil to his hands and grasped her right foot firmly. True to his word, there was no tickling; he didn’t want to break the mood for Scully and spoil the experience for her. He could only hope she was enjoying it as much as he was.

Mulder worked on both of Scully’s legs, from tiny foot to shapely knee, before sliding himself back up the bed so he could work on the back of her thighs. He followed the long, strong muscles, gliding his hands slowly down toward her knees with firm pressure. He continued until Scully was loose-limbed from head to toe, sprawled heavily on the towel with her eyes still closed and a satisfied little smile curling her perfect lips. Mulder was pretty sure she had drifted off to sleep again. He lifted the towel, intending to replace it with the bedsheet and let her doze. His gaze moved from her lips and followed her contours from throat, to shoulder, to the concave curve of her waist, settling where the small of her back flared to form hips and ass sculpted as if from marble.

He was startled when Scully spoke. “Are you just sitting there staring at me, Mulder?” Her tone was full of quiet amusement.

“Uh, yeah, I guess I am. Sorry. You look like a Greek statue lying there, Scully, only you’re soft and warm and pliant.”

“I feel like I’m floating. You’ve missed a couple of key areas though. Why did you stop?”

Mulder leant down over her torso to put his lips to her ear. His voice, when he spoke, was like gravel.

“Scully, if I don’t stop right now, I’m afraid this might become more about my pleasure than yours. Can we continue this tomorrow night? I promise I won’t stop then unless you ask me to.”

Scully surprised him by deftly rolling onto her back whilst holding the towel in place so that it covered her chest. She reached out and touched his cheek, first with her palm and then by running the backs of her fingers down his stubbled jaw. Her smile was soft and pouty - a new one for his catalogue of Scully expressions. She nodded her agreement, but the look she gave him suggested that she wouldn’t be asking him to stop any time in their immediate future. Still holding the towel loosely to her breasts, Scully sat up, closing the distance between herself and Mulder. She held his gaze and licked her lips then leaned forward a little more until their mouths touched. They kissed languidly while Mulder anchored his hands firmly, gripping the sheet on either side of her hips.

Eventually, Mulder released her lips, although he maintained his hold on the bedding. He exhaled a long breath before kissing Scully’s cheek and sitting back to allow her to move. With the towel still clasped to her chest, she rose and walked to the bathroom door. Mulder was watching her intently as she paused in the doorway and turned slightly to speak to him.

“Mulder… I know this is always a loaded question, but… what are you thinking about right now?” she asked softly.

“You.” He shrugged as if to say, ‘It’s always you.’

She beamed at him, a smile of genuine happiness that Mulder recognised, but had seen far too infrequently. Then her expression became serious as she seemed to consider him for a moment and come to a decision. She turned so her body was facing Mulder directly, and dropped the towel at her feet. Her smile returned as she heard Mulder suck in a deep breath. Scully held out one hand in a graceful invitation and Mulder was on his feet and moving toward her before he had consciously made the decision to do so. She took his hand to lead him into the bathroom, but Mulder entwined his fingers with hers and stood his ground. She looked up at him in surprise.

“Mulder?”

He wrapped his free hand around her and placed it on her lower back. His spot, she thought, as her body instinctively arched into the contact. Mulder moved in close and lowered his head to whisper in her ear, his fingers still linked with hers.

“Come back to the bed, Scully. Let’s do this properly.” Again, she gave him a curious look, so he explained.

“With our height difference, the only way shower sex is going to work is if I pick you up. Which means I can’t touch you or kiss you in all the places I want to kiss you.” He shrugged and gave her a wry little smile. “I’ve _may_ have spent some time thinking about this, Scully. Please, let me take you to bed.” He looked into Scully’s eyes and kissed the back of her hand. So much love.

“I’d be a fool to argue with that logic, wouldn’t I?” she murmured. She allowed Mulder to walk her over to the bed, where she gently turned him and backed him up until he was sitting on the edge of the mattress. Standing in the deep V formed by his long legs, she kissed him softly and dropped his hand so she could grasp the hem of his shirt. Mulder was quietly watching her, his hands hovering close to her waist. Scully could read the uncertainty on his face. She slipped her hands under his shirt and caressed her way up his stomach and chest, lifting his shirt as she went. A soft smile lit up her face as she watched Mulder’s reaction to her touch. His muscles rippled and his eyes went as dark as she had ever seen them.

“Arms up,” she whispered, and he obeyed, removing the shirt and dropping it to the floor. Again, Mulder’s hands hovered, desperately wanting to touch but not quite able to believe he was finally allowed to do so. Scully raised her hands to his shoulders, allowing her breasts to brush against him as she moved closer. His hands tentatively landed on her hips. She traced her fingers down over his chest, mapping his contours with a sinuous caress. She watched his eyes track her movements and flick between her fingers, lips and breasts. He was breathing deeply, utterly mesmerised. Scully waited until he met her eyes again and then spoke.

“Mulder, it’s great to have finally found a way to render you speechless, but this will be a lot more fun for both of us if you play too!” Her words seemed to provide the assurance he sought. Mulder gave her a hungry smile pulled her to him. She pressed decadent kisses to his chest as his hands slid down her back and under the fabric covering her ass. He kneaded and squeezed until Scully abandoned the soft kisses to use her teeth to graze and nip at his firm flesh. He slid his hands into her waistband and bent to help her finish undressing.

When she stood before him, skin warm and golden in the flickering candlelight, he paused, drinking her in. Then his hands reached for her; more confidently this time. He took Scully by the shoulders and ran his hands down her arms until they were holding hands. Mulder’s gaze had followed the downward motion of his hands, so when he finally looked back to Scully’s face it was to find her watching him intently. Her eyes were dark and she was biting her lip; the good way. She maintained eye contact with Mulder as she stepped back into the frame of his spread legs and raised their linked hands to her breasts. Slowly, she slid her fingers from his and leaned in to capture his lips as Mulder’s hands started to roam, cupping Scully’s breasts before slowly flicking his thumbs across her sensitive nipples, massaging and squeezing. Scully increased the pressure of their kiss and her hands drifted down so she could rake her nails low across his firm belly. She felt him groan into her mouth and it made her grin, inadvertently breaking their kiss. Mulder looked at her, narrowing his eyes in mock annoyance before a sly smile lit up his face and he nudged Scully back from the bed, giving himself enough room to work. He bent to place a kiss just above her navel, and then, after making eye contact with Scully, dragged the flat of his tongue up her torso and over the seductive swell of her breast, laving her nipple, licking along her clavicle and up the length of her throat. Scully bit her lip and resolutely held her silence, refusing to allow Mulder his revenge. 

He placed a slow, wet kiss on her jaw, just below her ear and then paused to look at her. Scully met his eyes with a level gaze that belied her racing pulse and taut nipples. Mulder noted the smile hovering on her lips and quirked his head to the side, one eyebrow raised. Determined, he tried again. He returned his mouth to Scully’s hot skin, this time pressing a kiss below her belly button. He let his tongue wander and dip inside her navel before circling it slowly then scraping his way up to her left breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth and playing with it until Scully’s head was thrown back and her fingers were tangled in Mulder’s thick hair. Still, she did not make a sound. Mulder had by now forgotten why he had started the game, so when Scully gave a breathy hiss as his hand that had been caressing her hip slipped lower to grab a handful of delicious curves, Mulder didn’t even pause. It was only when Scully pulled carefully away from him that he lifted his head and met her eyes. Need met want. They kissed again, tasting, touching, teasing.

When Scully slid her hands into the waistband of Mulder’s pyjama bottoms, he quickly took the hint and stood to discard his pyjamas. He turned back to Scully, who was watching him hungrily. He gathered her to him and as her arms went around his neck, he lifted her and rolled them both onto the centre of the bed. Skin to skin. Mulder hugged Scully tightly to him as they kissed. His warm, strong hands ghosted over her back and down the lithe leg that was soon hooked over his hip. He’d had so many plans, so many ways to make good on every innuendo he’d ever thrown Scully’s way, but in the end, in this wondrous, remarkable moment, all he wanted to do was hold her close, kiss her and love her.

Scully had thought a lot about this first time too. Her thoughts had been more concerned with evaluating the risks and benefits of taking this final leap. So now that the decision was made, she was entirely off-book. She was rocking against Mulder, her pleasure building, fuelled by his kisses and caresses. Her hands were on his neck, his jaw, cheek, shoulder, arms, chest. She stroked, squeezed, sucked and scratched until ‘Scully’ was the only word that her sweet Mulder could form.

Aching for release, Scully slipped from Mulder’s arms to straddle his hips and rock him into position. He watched her rise above him, breasts swaying, head thrown back, porcelain skin glistening. The temptation was too great and she was too far away. Mulder gripped her hips tightly and sat himself up, dragging them both back to the headboard for support. Now he could touch and taste, nip and suckle as Scully rocked in his lap and he pulsed his hips in an unstoppable call and echo. He slid long fingers down to where they were joined to circle and pinch until she fell against him, keening in his arms.

“Don’t stop!” she begged.

“Never, baby,” was his breathless reply. So many times had he called her that in his dreams! Would she scold him for it later? He didn’t care. Watching Scully come undone in his arms had him so close to the edge; his fall was inevitable. He rolled them so he was on top, blanketing her body with his, cradled in her hips with his arms bracketing her head. So close. Eyes closed, he found her lips and they opened to him. His movements were urgent now, erratic. Scully wrapped her arms and legs around him, tight. She sucked that delicious bottom lip of his into her mouth and bit it hard enough to make his eyes fly open. Scully’s blue eyes looked back at him and he was utterly lost. Safe in her arms, he let himself go. She held him tighter as his hips gave a last few lazy thrusts and he pressed his lips against Scully’s while they breathed together as the January stars appeared once more in the skies over Salem.

Too soon, they separated and Mulder rolled them onto their sides. They took turns in the bathroom then returned to the bed which Mulder had restored to some semblance of order while he waited for her. Scully slipped in under the covers and into Mulder’s waiting arms. He nuzzled into Scully’s neck, and when he spoke, his voice was full of dazed awe, “You changed your mind, Scully.” She slowly opened her heavy eyes, watching him as she reached up and smoothed his hair back from his face.

“All I’ve ever wanted was for this to just be about us. No aliens, no conspiracies; no fucking ghosts!” Mulder smiled, delighted by her uncharacteristic profanity. “All I could think of was you, so when you said you were thinking about me…” she shrugged. “I wanted you.”

She kissed him thoroughly and then rolled over so her back was to his chest, Mulder’s arms around her. His hands came to rest on her breasts. She laughed, before yawning widely. Afterglow Scully was a sleepy Scully, it seemed. Mulder placed warm kisses on her neck and cheek as they settled.

“Love you,” murmured Scully as her eyes drifted shut.

“You too,” Mulder returned.


	17. Chapter 17

6:00 PM

It was dark when Scully was roused by Mulder tracing sensuous, sinuous patterns on her bare back while he softly chanted her name. When her eyes blinked open she rolled over and looked sleepily at him before archly inquiring, “Yes?”

“You told me to wake you if I ever needed a cuddle,” Mulder explained, his charm dialled all the way up to 11. “And I must say, going from half-naked in a bed with you to completely naked is both a significant upgrade and a reason to eschew sleep!”

Scully slid her hand down to pinch his ass in rebuke. “You are ridiculous,” she scolded him, but her besotted gaze told him otherwise.

Freed from the weight of first-time expectations, Mulder was lavish in his ministrations. Scully began to reconsider all the times she had cursed his obsessive, one-track mind now that she truly understood what it was like to be the recipient of his complete, undivided attention. For his part, Mulder was delighted to find that his serious work partner was a playful lover who laughed with him and showered him with affection (she definitely didn’t mind when it was Mulder calling her ‘baby’).

Last time, Mulder had been quiet, almost as if afraid to break whatever spell had brought the two of them together. Now, as he lay beside Scully, her small body held to his long one with one strong arm, he alternated between kissing her, lavishing her breasts with attention and talking. Scully was enjoying all three. Her contributions to the conversation were currently somewhat limited by the actions of Mulder’s other hand, busy as it was creating her next orgasm. She planned to make it up to him just as soon as he was done. After all, she did owe him a prize for winning their bet in the graveyard! She vaguely wondered where his bottle of massage oil had got to.

Sometime later, after a very impractical shared shower, they dressed and headed down to the lobby for a late dinner. Since their sweaters were still coated in glass shards, they had both opted for their more formal attire: Scully in her silky champagne blouse, black trousers and heels, her hair curling around to frame her face; Mulder in his grey suit with a blue shirt, open at the neck. Scully started to lead the way to the tavern, but Mulder stopped her with a gentle press of their joined hands.

“Let’s go to Nathaniel’s. You look incredible, Scully; you deserve a fancy backdrop.” So they turned and requested a table in the quieter, couple-filled restaurant. Settled at the table, Scully eyed the candle warily for a moment, but it merely glowed back softly, contributing to the intimate atmosphere. They sat and listened as the waiter made his suggestions and they made their selections and ordered drinks. As they waited for their meals, they soon fell back into the comfortable rhythm of conversation that had defined their partnership for the last six years.

“I wonder if the ghost hunters in Room 612 have had any luck?” Scully mused.

“We can ask in the morning when we talk to the manager about rejigging their room allocation policies,” replied Mulder, “but I wouldn’t be surprised if the level of spectral activity is significantly reduced after our encounter with Hathorne. I suspect the residual energy available for ghostly visits was pretty heavily impacted after his antics last night.”

“Last night! A lot has happened since then.” Scully stretched out one small hand and linked her fingers with Mulder’s, offering him a smile, which somehow managed to further brighten the one he had been wearing for the past three hours. Their meals arrived and they chatted about the case, Christian and Michael, Nathaniel Hawthorne’s house and his writing, and Scully’s plan for their evening.

“I assume it wasn’t what we’ve just spent the afternoon doing? Although if it was, I’m totally opening to doing that again!” Mulder offered.  
  
Scully chuckled “Duly noted. That wasn’t the plan, although I’m willing to making a few amendments…” Mulder’s grin lit up the room. “There’s one more movie that’s perfect for watching in Salem. But it’s time-sensitive. We need to start it at 11.12 pm for things to sync up. We could go down to the library and play one of the board games until it’s time.”

“Or, we could go back up to the room and think of something to do,” suggested Mulder, with a gleam in his eye that Scully was quick to note.

“We could. But I need to be able to walk tomorrow, so let’s wait until after the movie.” She laughed as conflicting emotions chased across Mulder’s face. He settled on solicitous.

“Did I hurt you, Scully?”

“No, no, not at all. God, it was all incredible Mulder. I can’t believe how good I feel! It’s just been a while and you’re…a handful.” This time male pride won out. Mulder gave Scully a cheeky look while acknowledging her request.

“Scrabble it is then…till after the movie.”

\--

They fought their way through two games of Scrabble. Mulder objected to all of the Latin medical terms and Scully flatly refused to allow the names of cryptids, Latin or otherwise. Scully won the first game, mostly because Mulder kept hoarding tiles until he could play words like ‘boob’ and ‘suck’ just to make Scully roll her eyes. His competitive streak won out in the second game. He won by four points with a final play of ‘beloved’ with the ‘v’ on a triple letter score square. When they were done, Scully left him to pack up the board while she went on ahead to organise the second part of her evening plans. By the time she arrived back in their room, Mulder was lazing on the couch in his pyjamas. Scully quickly changed to join him. Before she sat down, she inserted the movie into the player and grabbed the remote.

Mulder had a pillow and blanket from their bed and now he angled the pillow so Scully could share it as she lay back against him on the couch. He spread the blanket over their legs and wrapped one arm around Scully’s middle. The opening titles of _Practical Magic_ began to play. Mulder’s interest was grabbed by the opening scene where puritans surrounded a hangman’s noose, ready to execute the first Owens family witch. He was about to start pointing out historical inaccuracies in the costumes when he glanced down at the contented woman in his arms. Instead, he feathered tiny kisses on her cheek and held her a little tighter. She smiled and covered his arm with hers, running her thumb back and forth across Mulder’s wrist. For the most part, they watched quietly (“Zombies? Again? Come on, Scully!”), although every kissing scene inspired a re-enactment there on the couch. Privately, Mulder thought his own fiery redhead was more like Sally Owens than her flame-haired sister, Gillian, but he suspected he still had a lot of new things to learn about his enigmatic partner. He was looking forward to the education.

At five minutes to midnight, there was a knock on the hotel room door. Mulder was startled until Scully calmed him with a reassuring pat on his hand. She hopped up and went to the door, thanking the woman who stood there and exchanging a tip for a tray loaded with an ice-cold pitcher, beaded with condensation, and two cocktail glasses, rimmed with shiny salt crystals.

“Midnight margaritas!” Scully grinned as she returned to the couch and quickly poured them both a drink, just in time to sit back and watch her favourite scene in the movie. As the Owens women danced around their kitchen, Mulder and Scully drank margaritas and kissed: salty lips and lemony tongues dancing together. It was years before Mulder ever saw the end of that movie; every time they tried to watch it, they were reminded of this night, their first as friends, partners and lovers.


	18. Chapter 18

HAWTHORNE HOTEL

SATURDAY 15 JANUARY

Scully woke and stretched, sprawling haphazardly across Mulder’s lithe frame.

“Morning, beautiful,” he said, earning himself a kiss.

“Mm, good morning.”

“Did you sleep well?” he inquired.

“Eventually,” she smirked.

“Do you still want to fly home today, Scully, or shall we stay on until Sunday as we’d originally planned?”

“Let’s go home,” Scully decided, “then we can spend all day tomorrow in bed!”

“Miss Scully! I like the way you think.”

They managed to dress and pack without too many diversions. Since they were travelling on the Bureau dollar, they dressed for work. Scully did her usual check of the room to make sure everything had been packed and then they stepped into the elegant old elevator for the final time. Scully glanced up at the lights, reassuringly dim, and thought back over the week.

“Do you think Hathorne’s ‘ghost’ is gone for good?” she wondered.

“I don’t know about ‘for good’ Scully. This town seems primed for the extremes of human experience. Let’s just hope he’s gone for now.”

“And Bridget?”

“Bridget seems to have found her niche in the afterlife, providing a level of protection for women that she was never afforded in her own life. Let’s hope getting rid of Hathorne has given her some peace too.” Scully squeezed his hand affectionately.

Reaching the lobby, they met with the hotel manager, as arranged. Scully was at her most earnest, insisting that the unofficial policy of assigning belligerent guests to room 612 must be stopped for the safety and wellbeing of all concerned. Mulder misquoted a couple of tangentially relevant state laws to back her statement and they left the manager suitable chastened.

\--

“Hopefully that will be enough to calm things down and get Mr Hargrave off Skinner’s back, and Skinner off ours,” said Scully as they headed for the car, and home.

“If not, I’ll tell Skinner that you now believe in ghosts, Scully. The stress headache from that should be enough to keep him out of the office for at least a month.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Fox Mulder! I never said I believe in ghosts…” Scully’s voice trailed off as she noted Mulder’s shit-eating grin. She scowled at him half-heartedly.

“Okay. If he kicks off, I’ll just announce that we’re sleeping together. He’ll be so busy collecting on the bullpen bets that he’ll forget all about us.”

Scully bumped her shoulder into Mulder’s side. “Better keep that one up your sleeve for the next time you accidentally drive a stake through a suspect’s heart, Mulder: gossip this good shouldn’t be wasted!”

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> The potion badge is from www.jubly-umph.com She makes wonderful things! 
> 
> The tarot cards are my creation. Each image is based on the traditional tarot images but has been X-Filed.
> 
> If you like maps, as I do, you can follow this link to follow Mulder and Scully's meanderings around Salem. They thoroughly enjoyed their stay-I hope you do too!
> 
> https://www.google.com/maps/d/edit?mid=1YtyM65v3L4W4_0See4M1wQG55iPuvGRa&usp=sharing


End file.
